Caught in the Game Again
by LadyDeb1970
Summary: AU: Chapter eleven When a young MI6 agent discovers evidence that Alec Trevelyan was actually a prisoner after Arkangelsk, the resulting investigation to clear his name yields an even more shocking revelation: Alec is very much alive.
1. Memory, All Alone in the Moonlight

Disclaimer: Alec Trevelyan, James Bond, M, Miss Moneypenny, Natalya Simonova, Xenia Onatopp, Q, Arkady Ourumov, Jack Wade, and Charles Robinson do not belong to me. They belong to the estate of Ian Fleming and to MGM. However, Rowanne, Sassy, and Sabrina do, along with the Bramwell family, Sebastian Miller (006 Number two) and William Pryce-Meecham (002), the Denisov family and Dr Vanya Orlov. If you don't recognize them, there's a better than even chance that the character is one of mine.

(takes deep breath) My characters may be borrowed, but please ask first, give credit where credit is due, and PLEASE return them to me intact (they don't have to be unscathed, but they do have to be in one piece and alive).

Special thanks go to Melanie, for her encouragement and support; and to Iolana and alleymap for listening while I worked out plot details in the middle of an email.

Caught in the Game Again

Prologue

Memory, All Alone in the Moonlight

MI6 Headquarters, London, England

March 2004

He was an old man among the double oh's. More than seventy years old, he had the pleasure of training such young shining stars as James Bond and Alec Trevelyan. Oh, he knew about his protégé's later betrayal, but when he knew Alec Trevelyan, he was young and bright and eager. Just twenty years old, he wanted to save the world. And 002, the second generation of agents created after the Second World War in MI6, taught him everything he needed to know.

Were he to be utterly honest, 002. . .or, as he was known in the civilian world, William Pryce-Meecham. . .never truly let go of his soft spot for the youngster who was recruited into MI6 directly after his graduation from University. Even after Bond returned from Cuba with the news that Trevelyan was Janus, that his 'death' nine years earlier was just a cover story for his planned defection. . .William still loved the boy.

He never told M, of course. . .or Bond, for that matter. In truth, there was a part of William Pryce-Meecham that blamed himself for never telling the boy the truth about his parents. He could only guess how Alec found out about the Lienz Cossacks, and what it did to the lad when he discovered the truth. He should have told Alec himself. . .he might have sparedthem all so much grief.

All water under the bridge, but William still felt as though he betrayed Alec. That was one reason. . . one of many. . .why he kept a paternal eye on the young agents who reported to him now. Especially his 006. Alec's code number. He couldn't save Alec, but maybe he could save Sebastian, who reminded him painfully of Alec at times. He was reading over the boy's report right now. And it was most disquieting.

According to Sebastian, Dr Ivan Orlov, a Russian scientist who went missing nearly twenty years earlier, resurfaced recently. Only a few months before Alec's defection, if he remembered correctly. And his last base of operations was. . . William's blood ran cold. Arkangelsk. How on earth did they miss this little bit of information? Was it a coincidence? Only months before one of William's greatest protéges pulled a disappearing act, this scientist pulled one of his own? He continued to read the report.

During his investigation atthe old weapons factory, Sebastian discovered that Dr Orlov was quite fascinated with the changes in the human body caused by chemicals. It was around the time that Alzheimer's was given a name, and he began to theorize that he could create a chemical, or possibly a machine, that would have some of the effects as Alzheimer's. . .including memory loss. William swallowed hard, and turned the page.

More sickening revelations followed. Orlov considered the doctors in charge of the concentration camps during the Second World War to be great men, ground-breaking scientists. He spoke in glowing terms in his papers of their genius. No surprise, given what Nazi Germany did to Stalin's Russia, that he was not well regarded in his own country. It was a surprise, then, that Arkady Ourumov (bastard) employed him.

William's own brother, Gareth, fought in the Second World War, and he wrote to William about the horrors he saw in the concentration camps. He couldn't tell their father, as the old man was sympathetic to Hitler and the Nazis. Nor could Gareth tell their mother, whose health was even then failing. Only to William could he tell about the horrors he saw when the Allies liberated the camps.

William was just a boy at the time. . .a teenager, he would be called now. But even as he fought back his nausea at what his beloved brother saw, he was proud. Proud that his brother considered him enough of a man to confide in him. And it was not something he would ever forget. He was all too aware, through the years, of neo-Nazis and the children foolish enough to think it provided any answers other than death and destruction. Or maybe that was what they sought. But William Pryce-Meechamknew Nazis. And he would never forget. Now this fool Orlov was yet another reminder of that evil.

Sebastian was just as horrified as what he learned, and tracked the scientist. The previous week, Sebastian finally tracked down the man's most recent lab. He moved on since then, but the old fool left all of his records behind. That, in and of itself, smelled like a trap to William. Unless, of course, Orlov was arrogant enough that no one would decipher his notes. That was always a possibility. He wasn't nearly as good at covering his tracks as any of William's trainees. The old man permitted a few moments of pride in his boys, as he called them, before he continued to read the report.

At the very end was a post-it note from Sebastian, reading, "002. Check the second page. As if this isn't bad enough, there's more. Seems he's had some live subjects over the years. I recognised a few of the names, and I know you will, too. I'm heading back to the archives, and see what I can learn. You'll understand when you read the list of live subjects. William. . .I'm sorry. I can't tell you how sorry I am."

With trepidation fluttering in his gut, William turned the page. What hit him first was not the names listed. . .but the number of names listed. There had to be hundreds at least. William whispered a silent prayer that these poor souls be permitted to rest in peace. However, that prayer wasn't to be answered. Because Sebastian was quite correct. The very first name he saw, he recognized. _Oh no. Oh, God, no._

He picked up the receiver and dialed the archives. Once the connection was established, he said tersely, "I wish to speak with 006, please." There was a slight wait, but in the end, he heard Sebastian's eager young voice. . .now subdued and muted with the horror of what he had seen. Double-oh agents were trained to deal with horrifying sights during their careers. But sometimes. . . sometimes, something got past even their protective shields.

"Sebastian, it's 002. Son, I want you to do something. After the Goldeneye incident, the Russian government sent us pictures of Alec Trevelyan. No, they didn't know he was Janus, but they were suspicious of him. Look for anything unusual, anything that no one has noticed before. You know what I mean. If you find anything, take it to M, but don't tell her that you did this at my direction. Good lad," William praised as he hung up the phone.

He sat back and regarded the sheet in front of him, trembling with rage. _Oh my dear boy_, he thought, staring sadly at that first name on the sheet, _it's too late for me to save you, Alec. But it's not too late for me to clear your name. And I swear to you now. . .no matter what it takes, I will take Orlov down, and I will make him pay for what he did to you, and all the others. He won't get away with it, Alec. I promise. He won't get away with it_!


	2. The Trevelyan Connection

See part one for disclaimer.

Just a quick author's note, then we'll get to the reviews, and then to the story. As you probably noticed, I've changed the setting to AU, since this chapter marks a slight change in the ending of _Goldeneye_. I never liked the satellite tower falling on Alec. Originally, I planned for Alec to roll into the drainage ditch, until I realized that was already used. So, as I so often do, I went to plan B. The exact details of Alec's survival will be explained at a later date.

Reviews:

Iolana: You, my dear, should take at least half the credit for this chapter! Your comments and questions got me to thinking about the research Sebastian would do, along with William's part in the investigation. I'm a sucker for stories about the relationships with people, and one thing I've noticed in my own work experiences. . .there is often a father or mother figure who sort of looks after the younger ones in the office/factory/whatever. Thus, William was created. And Sebastian. . .Sebastian just sort of popped up. A 006 who reminded many people of Alec, but at the same time, was the very antithesis of both him and James Bond. This takes place around the beginning of last year, so about nine-ten years after _Goldeneye_. The reason for this will be explained in chapter two. Along with several other things. And there are others in MI6 who remember the good in Alec. Stay tuned!

Steph: Oh, I have every intention of going forward with this story! Alec absolutely insists on it. I think I may have the first story that doesn't have slash undertones, in which Alec was tortured and turned. I can't promise that I'll update every few days, as I have ten other unfinished stories, but I will not give up on it.

And now, on with the story!

Caught in the Game Again

Chapter One

The Trevelyan Connection

Unlike most MI6 agents with the license to kill, Sebastian Miller never aspired to be a double-oh agent. He was actually quite happy with research and code breaking. Nor was he particularly fond of the playboy lifestyle. In short, he was the very antithesis of James Bond, 007. This actually worked in Sebastian's favor, because his nature prevented him from seeking out the older man's company.

Well, that and Bond's obvious dislike of him, especially after he was given double-oh status. That was bad enough, but even worse, he was assigned the code number of 006. Sebastian was painfully aware that he was the third 006 in the last twenty years. There was his immediate predecessor, Evan Tudor, who was killed two and a half years earlier. And before him, there was Alec Trevelyan, the chief reason for Bond's animosity toward Sebastian.

Like Alec Trevelyan, Sebastian wasn't born in England. Rather, he was born in New Zealand, and he came to England as a boy with his parents. Just like Alec Trevelyan. That was hardly a crime against the queen, but the whole bloody mess with Goldeneye left Bond licking his wounds, metaphorically speaking. And Miranda bloody Frost didn't help matters, either. Bond spent fourteen months in a North Korean prison and briefly lost his double oh status because of that little traitor.

There was also the matter of Sebastian himself. He didn't look anything like Alec Trevelyan. . .he had dark hair, bordering on black, rather than blond. . .but he was often told there were similarities between himself and Trevelyan. But each time he asked about those similarities, Bond would magically appear, as if drawn by Trevelyan's name, and the conversation would turn to other things. Sebastian would remain, but the agent felt Bond's accusing eyes on him through every moment of the subsequent conversations.

Trevelyan was the reason he was here in the archives. Or, more properly, Sebastian's curiosity about the man was the reason. And he was curious, ever since he was given double-oh status, he was fascinated by his predecessor, and the perceptions of him within MI6. . .seen first a martyr, then a traitor. And now? Sebastian sighed, looking down at the report he submitted to 002. Now, it seemed Alec Trevelyan was a victim.

That was why he took his findings to 002. First, the Orlov investigation wasn't official. Officially, Sebastian was tracking down a terrorist of unknown background, who had dealings with Orlov. He hit a dead end with Custos, as he called himself, so Sebastian pursued the Orlov angle. It was a tendency, according to M, that led her to give him a double-oh status. This was a compliment, coming from M.

And Orlov led back to Alec Trevelyan. First, there was the lab at Arkangelsk. Then, St Petersburg. Sebastian frowned, reading over his own notes a second time. St Petersburg. Wasn't that also where Janus made his base of operations? It was, indeed. Hmm. Could he theorize, then, that St Petersburg was where Trevelyan was taken after Arkangelsk? It would make sense, but Sebastian's main flaw as a double-oh agent was his inability to think like his quarry. He relied on logic and reason, and that only worked with rational people.

Even so, there was a pattern starting to emerge. And it would make sense. Orlov would want to be close by, especially if he didn't trust Ourumov. He would want to be close by, to see the results of his experiments. To see the progress of his star subject, for lack of a better term. Curious, Sebastian leafed through the reports. Not everything was here. . .some, he turned over to Decryption, a department which included not only cracking codes, but translating.

While Sebastian spoke Russian and German fluently, as well as French and Italian, there was one report in a language he didn't recognize. The head of the Decryption Section (called, rather appropriately, D) recognized it as Hungarian. However, her own Hungarian was rusty, to say the least, so she turned it over to one of her translators. It could be that some of the missing pieces were in that report. He made a mental note to check in with D in a few days, but not right now. It took time to translate. He wouldn't have the report back today.

And that wasn't his responsibility right now. He had a responsibility to discover Alec Trevelyan's associates while he was in St Petersburg, above and beyond Ourumov and Onatopp (a name that always made Sebastian blush). Sebastian checked his watch. . .it had been twenty minutes since he requested the photos in question. If he didn't have them in ten minutes, he would track down the archivist, and see if they were thrown out or burned. Knowing 007, it would be just like him to have anything dealing with his former best friend destroyed.

He didn't have the official authority to do so. . .only M could do that. . .but 007 had a way of getting around rules that he found inconvenient. All he had to do was turn on the infamous Bond charm, especially on a new archivist who was so young and eager to please, and he could have whatever he wanted. Sebastian felt an irrational burst of hatred for Bond. He understood that Bond felt betrayed, but if his self-centered attitude ended up making Sebastian's job more difficult. . .

Well, it was a moot point, as the archivist returned with the files he asked for. He smiled as he thanked her, and put the reports back in order. He could devote all of his attention to the photos now. Not for the first time, Sebastian wondered why no one thought to go through these earlier. Yes, he realized that Bond was still grieving. . .he also realized that it took nearly a year for the Russian government to send the files along.

But 007 wasn't the only agent in MI6, and surely someone would have gone through these sooner? Were they too embarrassed by the notion that a double-oh agent could go rogue, and they simply swept Trevelyan's sins under the rug? That was the only thing Sebastian could think of. Well, it hardly mattered now. He was doing this, and perhaps he would find something that was missed. Something that would help 002 clear Alec Trevelyan's name.

Through the next three hours, he sifted through photo after photo, starting in 1993. It was then that Alec Trevelyan first went out in public. That fit. He was a prisoner, being reprogrammed from 1986-1988. And Janus spent from 1988 to 1991, building up his Syndicate. Janus, not Alec Trevelyan, though Alec Trevelyan remained dormant within Janus. That was his belief, at least.

Sebastian knew that one couldn't be brainwashed into doing things that went counter to one's nature. However, he also knew that memories made up a person. . .and if something happened to those memories, the entire person would change. It wasn't until the latter months of 1994 that Sebastian found someone who didn't belong in the photos. His pulse quickening, Sebastian went through all the other photos, up until Alec Trevelyan left for Cuba with Xenia Onatopp. Yes. . .yes, this might do very well indeed!

"Hello, my dear," he murmured, "and who are you?" He didn't know. But his part in this particular research project was finished. He did what 002 told him. Now came the hard part. Going to M with this. He swallowed hard. Sebastian was a seasoned double-oh agent. As much as he hated guns, he did take lives when he found it necessary. But if there was anyone in the world who scared him more than Nazis in general or people like Orlov, it was M.

* * *

Kathryn Moneypenny belonged to the same family tradition as James Bond within MI6. Perhaps that was why she flirted with him. . .though it certainly wasn't why she was attracted to him. Kit's aunt was her predecessor as M's secretary. And she was quite attracted to James' uncle. . .also a 007 and also a James. He once confided in her, years ago, after Alec Trevelyan's supposed death, that in some ways, being a James Bond was a curse. He was devastated by his best friend's death, and mourned by getting thoroughly pissed, to use the vernacular.

Like his uncle James, the current 007 lost his parents in a climbing accident. But unlike his uncle James, the man she knew was never married. His Uncle James was briefly married to a countess named 'Theresa,' called 'Tracy.' She was murdered in 1969, only moments after their wedding. James, then sixteen, clearly remembered his uncle's devastation, and swore never to be hurt like that.

And Kit? Kit's own aunt was in love with James Bond the elder for many years. Knowing that, Kit swore that she wouldn't fall into the same trap. Wasn't that a joke? Sometimes, these things really did run in the family. The odd thing was, MI6 was, in a way, a family. Perhaps a strangefamily,but still, they looked out for each other as best they could. . .the agents and their support staff.

Alec Trevelyan was part of that family. . .whether they admitted it or not. If she was in love with James, then Alec was the big brother she always wanted. She loved him as well, though in a very different way. Truthfully, she still loved him, even as she hated him for trying to kill James. Like everyone else in MI6, she knew the entire story. . . about his parents, especially. And that was what made her so angry.

She had a sneaking suspicion she knew when he learned the truth. . .about six months before he disappeared. When he came to the building, asking for a few days away, he was expressionless, aside from a weak attempt at a smile when she greeted him. That was her first clue that something was terribly wrong. At this time, Kit hadn't taken the Moneypenny position of her aunt, but she was still support staff. And she knew Alec. . .he looked as if someone had torn out his soul. She saw that look before, from other agents. She knew that emptiness.

Kit could actually understand why Alec never told James what he learned about his parents. James was devoted to Queen and country. He really was. That was the true love of his life. . .he had no room for anything else. Oh, he had his affairs while he was on assignment. That was to be expected. . .but they never lasted long. None of those women held his heart. Some had a better shot than others. . .like that lovely young Russian programmer, Natalya. But in the end, James' work was his life.

So yes. Yes, she could understand why Alec never told James about his parents. But what about her? Did he truly think she would judge him for something that happened before he was born, something over which he had no control? Did he truly think she would think less of him? It hurt her, that he thought so little of her. Of course, knowing Alec, he was trying to protect her, as well as himself. As the years passed, and things shifted into perspective with one situation after another, she started to see things as they were.

Alec Trevelyan was twenty-seven years old when he learned the truth about his parents. He was still so terribly young. . .even then, after seven years in MI6, he still had the same eagerness to save the world that he did when he was a twenty year old recruit. Kit began to realize that while she would probably never forgive Alec for trying to kill James, and destroy everything she loved. . .she could forgive him for not knowing whom he could trust. That was something she could understand as well. . .he felt betrayed. How would he know whom to trust?

A hesitant cough alerted Kit that she wasn't alone, and she looked up with her most professional smile. Her smile brightened as she saw the young 006, Sebastian Miller, standing at her desk, smiling at her hesitantly. A quick glance at the clock sitting on her desk told her that M was currently in a meeting with several of her statisticians. With a regretful smile, she told him, "Good day to you, 006, M is in a meeting right now. . .would you like to come back later?"

"I actually came to see you, Miss Moneypenny. I was wondering if I could ask your opinion on something?" Sebastian asked shyly. Kit liked Sebastian. She really did. He was much quieter than most double-oh agents. . .at the same time, it was that sweetness that made her worry about him. She knew James didn't like him, but he hadn't really liked Evan Tudor, either. He didn't like Evan for taking Alec's place, and he didn't like Sebastian. . .

Well, Kit wasn't really sure why he didn't like Sebastian. He just made no attempt to hide his contempt for the new agent. Sebastian was still a rookie double-oh, after being in his current position for only two and a half years. He was still learning. Still learning, and still gaining confidence as his ability, particularly with firearms. Q loved him, not surprisingly. . .the boy actually brought his gadgets back in one piece!

And now Sebastian wanted her advice. She smiled and motioned him to sit down. He wasn't really a boy. . .he was in his early thirties, after all. . .but his rookie status made him seem much younger. Sebastian began, "I was assigned to investigate this Custos, and followed his trail. His name has been linked to a scientist, Ivan Orlov. The Custos trail went cold, so I switched my attention to Ivan Orlov. He resurfaced. . .I should explain, he disappeared nearly twenty years ago. His main research lab at that time was Arkangelsk."

Arkangelsk? But that. . .? Kit looked at Sebastian, who nodded. He went on, "He disappeared a few months before the raid conducted by my predecessor and 007. The man was a menace, Miss Moneypenny. . .he considered the Nazi scientists to be great men, for the love of God! I have his notes, and while not all of them are translated, I do know enough to know this. He was working on something that would alter the memory of his victims."

_Dear heaven, what a horrid thought_! Kit Moneypenny had worked at MI6 entirely too long not to realize what sort of ramifications that could have. Sebastian continued after a moment, "I was unnerved by several things, in addition to his monstrous experiments. Aside from one exception, Orlov was always in the same general geographic area as my 006 predecessor Alec Trevelyan after Arkangelsk. So, once the Orlov trail went cold, I began pursuing the Trevelyan connection."

"You found something, didn't you?" Kit asked, leaning forward in spite of herself. The young agent nodded, some of thetension vanishing from his face. Yes. Yes, he found something, and that was why he was so nervous. Kit went on, seeing now why he asked for her advice, "Now, you want to know how to explain this to M, since your original quarry was Custos. My advice to you, Sebastian, is tell her exactly what you just told me. And then show her whatever you found. If Alec Trevelyan still has operatives, we need to know where and whom they are, so they can be neutralized. And Orlov is even more of a threat, I think."

Sebastian sank back into his chair, sighing, "I hoped you would say something like that. I was afraid that she. . .never mind. It sounds foolish. But she frightens me, Miss Moneypenny. When I work with 002, I am so much more. . .I know what I am doing. He is very patient with me, and allows me to ramble. He knows I'll get to the point in my own time, and that I have to explain things first, or it won't make sense. I still fear I'll disappoint M."

"The only way you'll disappoint me, 006, is if you fail to be thorough," M said. Kit really had to give Sebastian credit. . .as nervous as M made him (he wasn't the only one), he remained perfectly still in his chair, and only the nervous flicker in his eyes gave away his discomfort. M approached Kit's desk, saying, "Has 006 been my only visitor, Moneypenny?" Kit nodded, and M continued, "Then come along, 006, and tell me what has you so anxious."

Sebastian flushed, a deep, dark red, and Kit mouthed, "Good luck," to him. He nodded and quietly followed M into her office. Kit turned her attention back to adjusting M's schedule, since this meeting was a last-minute type of thing. Strange, wasn't it? That she was thinking about Alec Trevelyan only moments before Sebastian brought this to her attention. Whatever he found. . .Kit hoped it would bring them all peace.

* * *

Several hours after his call to the archives, 002 was doing research of his own. A call down to D in Decryption reassured him that Sebastian was as thorough as ever. . . William noticed a missing page in his report. D explained that this particular page was in a different hand-writing than the good doctor, and in a different language. Evidently, at some point, he employed a Hungarian assistant in his experiments. Or, at least, someone who could speak and write Hungarian. William relaxed immediately. . .Sebastian didn't speak a word of thelanguage. Of course he would take it to D.

At the moment, he was going over every word of the report, trying to fathom the depths of Orlov's depravity. Sebastian was right. The monster wrote down every word. . .charted the entire course of his experiments, from the beginning idea, to the experiments on animals, to the shift to human beings. Based on what he was reading in Orlov's notes, the entire Arkangelsk mission was set up for one reason and one reason only. The capture of Alec Trevelyan.

A cover story was set up and the pieces were put into play. Word was leaked to the British government. And MI6, upon hearing the cover story, sent its two best agents, James Bond and Alec Trevelyan, to destroy the entire facility. They had been duped. They were set up and duped. They were used, and that made William Pryce-Meecham very angry indeed. He didn't like being used.

To his horror, though, there was more. Someone wanted Alec, specifically. Perhaps because of his parents, and the massacre at Liensk in 1945. From Alec's files, 002 knew that Alec wasn't even born at the time. He was born nearly fourteen years later, in 1959. Long enough for survivor guilt of the worst kind to poison his father's mind, and slowly destroy his soul. And now, Orlov had done the same thing to the son.

But why? Surely Orlov didn't consider the boy a traitor! He was only three years old when his father finally lost his tenuous grip on sanity, killing himself and his wife. Alec was an innocent in this entire situation. Unless. . . William stopped reading and sat back. Perhaps that was why. Perhaps Orlov wanted to start with a strong man like Alec, a strong man who had a fatal weakness. His parents. He grew up without parents. Grew up unwanted and unloved.

_You bastard_, William thought, staring down at the piece of paper in his hand, _you unmitigated bastard. That was why you wanted Alec. The beatings, the torture. . .all of that was just to soften him up. Make him more vulnerable to your mind games. And when did the idea of Goldeneye come in? Or was that Janus_? By now, William realized he was thinking of Janus as a separate personality from Alec Trevelyan.

Split personalities. Why not? Orlov himself said that Alec resisted, even after the chemical was injected into him. William sat forward once more, frowning thoughtfully. What if the Janus personality pushed Alec into the background, so that the young spy remained dormant within the master criminal? The old man felt sick. _Oh God_. _Was there a chance to save Alec before the very end_? He needed to look into the Goldeneye files again.

But he couldn't do that, not just yet. He needed more information about the experiments. Was it a split personality, or was Janus the personification of Alec's rage, grief, and perhaps even guilt? That was just as likely an explanation. Unfortunately, this was all conjecture, and the one person who could answer his questions, aside from that neo-Nazi Orlov,was dead. The phone rang, and he answered it somewhat absently. However, he straightened up as soon as he heard the voice on the other end of the line. It was M.

"What sort of tales have you been telling young 006, old man?" M asked, sounding outraged. William, who knew her better, just smiled. He knew her back when she was still a bean counter, and even further back than that. It was, in fact, his recommendation that she head up MI6 after her predecessor retired. M gave an exasperated huff, adding, "Honestly, as if I don't have enough to worry about between my children and 007's latest antics, now you're making me into some sort of dragon lady to the younger agents. I may not be cuddly like you, William, but there's certainly no reason for them to fear me."

"Cuddly? I, madam? I think not! And you scare them without even trying. I take it, then, that Sebastian has spoken with you," William returned, smiling in spite of himself, and in spite of the grim reading material. He rather enjoyed his banter with M. Such conversations kept him young. . .or at least, kept his mind young. There was little he could do about his aging body, though he was still in fairly good shape. He couldn't take 007 in a fight, but he certainly wasn't decrepit, either!

"He has. . .and that's exactly what I'm talking about! The boy thought I would chastise him for investigating the Trevelyan connection!" M retorted. It was one thing for William to call Sebastian a boy, but M was another matter. He didn't think she had children older than Sebastian. William _did_. The head of MI6 calmed down, then continued, "He showed me photographs of a young girl. While I highly doubt she is a Janus operative, I think we should still investigate her."

"Are you asking my permission, dear lady?" William asked archly, thoroughly enjoying himself. A young girl, hmm? Well, well. It seems like Alec's journey through Hell didn't remove any of his notorious charm. Of course, that depended on how 'young' she was. To M, that could be someone Sebastian's age, a teenaged girl, or somewhere in between the two.

"Not in the least, you old fool. . .I'm asking you to investigate this girl! Keep 006 on the case, since the Custos investigation is his primary responsibility. If there is a connection between Custos and Janus, aside from both having Latin names and Orlov becoming involved with them both, I want to know about it. I will not have another Goldeneye situation develop," M retorted. She wasn't referring to the technology, but to Janus himself.

William couldn't help himself. He wasn't ready to tell M that there was more to Alec's 'defection' than what met the eye. But. . . He answered coldly, "Then I would suggest, madam, that the next time MI6 recruits a young man. . .or a young woman, for that matter. . .whose parents died because of something we did, that we should be honest with him or her about it."

M wasn't responsible for this mess. He knew that. But M, and her predecessors, sometimes forgot that their agents were just human beings. MI6, and indeed all such organizations, expected so much from their people. M was silent for a long time, then she replied quietly, "Your point is well-taken. Perhaps if we had been honest with your protégé, he would not have defected. But we did what we thought was right at the time."

"As you say. Send over the photos. Tell me, did Sebastian stop shaking long enough to tell you what about this young girl set off his instincts?" William asked. M's short bark of laughter told him that he wasn't far from the truth, and William promised himself that once this investigation was finished, he would do something to help Sebastian with his discomfort around M. It was necessary for him to have some discomfort, for the sake of discipline in the ranks. . .but not _this_ much.

"His exact words were, 'she didn't look like she belonged.' And after seeing the pictures, I agree. I never knew Alec Trevelyan, but I've heard a great deal about what he was like before he turned. He and 007 share similar tastes in women. And this girl is not to his taste. For one thing, she looks like she's still in her teens. For another, while she is pretty enough, she doesn't wear her clothes well. . . she is not comfortable in her own skin. Do you think he was using her?" M asked.

William didn't know how to answer that, as he was too busy processing what M told him. Both 006 and 007 had a weakness for pretty women. . .they were both drawn to vulnerable women, as they were both frustrated knights in their hearts. From what he was hearing, it sounded as if that was something else that didn't change. But the question was. . .if Alec was using this girl, why? Did her parents have money? Did she have something that he needed?

And why, nine years after Goldeneye, were they just now finding out about this girl? Ah, he knew the answer to that, of course. No one wanted to discuss Alec Trevelyan. Instead of answering the question asked, William replied, "Send the pictures, and I'll see what I can find out. And M, for the love of God, explain to Sebastian why James Bond dislikes him so intensely. Our agents face danger and uncertainty in the field. . .they do not need it here!"

Without another word, he hung up the phone and leaned back. It would take Sebastian a good thirty minutes to reach his office. William turned his attention back to the notes confiscated from Orlov's labs. His phone rang again and he snapped it up, demanding irritably, "What is it now, M?" Only. . . it wasn't M. It was D. The translator finished the document. And there was something. . .most unusual about it.

William asked, rather testily, what she was talking about, and D explained, "Well, you see, as 006 said, it was written by someone else, in Hungarian. We successfully translated it, and learned that in 1995, Dr Orlov and his assistant were in Cuba." Cuba. Where Alec died. William's blood ran cold, and D continued, perhaps aware that she was about to further turn MI6 upside down, "002. . .the experiments continued long after the initial breaking."

For a long moment, William couldn't say anything. He should have seen it. Orlov would want to see the fruits of his labors. And as he knew from his own wife's struggle with heart medicine in the wake of her heart attack, with certain chemicals, the body built up a resistance to them. The body could adapt to these chemicals, until they no longer had an affect. It seemed likely that they were looking at something similar. At last, he said, "Send a runner to my office with the original document and the translation."

An unhappy thought occurred to him as he gently replaced the phone in the cradle. At some point, he would have to bring 007 into this. For now, he could hear Sebastian's steady footsteps approaching. Away from 007 and M, the boy was so different. This case could be what he needed to prove himself. William would like that. . .clear the name of one 006 and make the name of another at the same time. There was a balance there that he liked.

* * *

Over the next fortnight, Sebastian Miller worked almost exclusively on what was becoming known as 'the Trevelyan Connection.' He kept an eye on Orlov, but neither he nor Custos turned up. It was almost as if both men dropped off the face of the planet. They would show up, soon enough. In those two weeks, Sebastian learned first that the young girl who seemed so out of place was named 'Rowanne Justine Bramwell.' She was the daughter of Jonah and Christine Bramwell. . .contributors to Janus.

Rowanne was an heiress. . .inheriting several thousand dollars from her grandmother upon the old woman's death when Rowanne was nineteen. She would receive the trust fund set up for her by her grandfather upon her twenty-fifth birthday. When she met Janus, that was three years away. She was in St Petersburg for several months after the ball where she met the leader of the syndicate. . .and was seen being escorted to a private airfield by none other than Xenia Onatopp (_would he never stop blushing when he saw her name_?).

That was three weeks before the former 006 and the current 007 clashed in St Petersburg. They already knew that Orlov was in Cuba, though that last document didn't explain what he was doing there. It was likely that the Hungarian assistant didn't know, either. But where was Rowanne sent, and what was her connection to Alec Trevelyan? He looked at the picture of the girl again, staring at it thoughtfully.

What did he know about her? She was twenty-two years old when she met Alec Trevelyan in the latter part of 1994. According to the information he had from the dossier created for her parents, she was born in 1972, the second of five children, and a recent college graduate. Her parents were contributors to Janus. . .whether they knew what he was doing or thought they were contributing to a children's charity was anyone's guess.

Neither 007 nor Natalya Simonova, his ally during that particular mission, reported seeing her. This meant, if she was in Cuba, she wasn't in the compound, but somewhere else. She wasn't in St Petersburg. His search turned up no records of her in England or the United States, in Canada or even Australia. He was willing to bet that when Xenia put her on that plane, it was destined for Cuba. So where was she?

Somewhere Bond couldn't reach her. As a prisoner, or was Alec breaking free of those shackles around his soul? Was he trying to protect her, or himself? Sebastian shook his head. Not enough answers, only more questions. All right. Time to find another angle, because his head was starting to ache. His head was starting to ache, and he hadn't eaten at all that day. Damn. He had done it again. He neatly arranged his papers, so that no one could see what he was working on, and ambled out of the room.

Usually, when he reached this point, he would get a sandwich and a soda pop, then return to work. Not today. Today, he had been working for eight straight hours, without any breaks, and he was no closer to finding the truth. On this particular day, he needed to let his mind wander a little bit. He wondered if he needed to watch those damnable tapes again. When Sebastian found the notes in the lab, he also found tapes of the torture sessions. The torture, the beatings. And what he saw left him in awe of his predecessor.

Would he have the strength to hold on as long as Alec did? He didn't know. He only knew that Alec fought with every bit of strength he possessed. Sebastian saw that in the videotape, he saw that and he heard it. When Alec was interrogated about the secrets of MI6, he would respond with a personal anecdote about 007 and himself, referring to him only as 'James.' There was genuine affection in his voice when he spoke of his brother-in-arms. Was it Bond who kept Trevelyan fighting, long after he should have given up, long after most men would have given up?

His mind wandered as he ate. He tried not to think about what those tapes had shown. However, he did allow himself to feel some pride, knowing that Ourumov was incapable of breaking Alec. It wasn't the torture or the beatings that broke his predecessor. It was Orlov and his damn experiments. It was Orlov playing with his mind, playing with his memories. It was, in fact, a version of mental rape.

Once it was time to take this to M, he and 002 would no doubt have a fight on their hands. She and 007 would contend that Alec was a double-oh agent, and as such, was trained to deal with such torture techniques. 007 would be his usual bloody superior self, no doubt bringing up his time in North Korea as evidence to counteract the wealth of evidence discovered by 002 and Sebastian.

002, in turn, would point out that Alec was trained according to what they knew at the time. This was something different, something they never encountered before. Yes, they heard of brainwashing. . .of course they had. . .but this was something different. This was the willful alteration of a man's memories. At which point, of course, William Pryce-Meecham would tartly point out that just because James Bond was considered a superhero didn't mean that his fellow agents weren't human beings.

Oh yes, it would be quite interesting, to say the least. While Sebastian knew that M would play devil's advocate, she was also a reasonable person. And she had to play devil's advocate. She didn't have the emotional baggage with Alec Trevelyan that James Bond did. _Stop being so judgmental_, he mentally scolded himself, but another voice responded somewhat childishly_, why should I? Why should I show Bond any more respect than I do to any other agent?_

Enough of Bond. His resentment of the older agent was strong, but he had a job to do. It was time to get his thoughts back on track. There was still the matter of Ourumov and Xenia. Ahhh, yes. So how did Orlov convince Alec to work with Ourumov? Well, yes, first they had to rearrange his memories, so that he believed he was defecting at the time of the Arkangelsk mission. Quite possibly, they also blocked out a very important part of double-oh training. . .in a situation like Arkangelsk, when the mission went so horribly awry. It was standard operating procedure to reset the timer. . .Alec knew that. All double-oh agents did.

Sebastian finished off the last of his soda pop, then rose to his feet, wincing at the pops and cracks his vertebrae made. He supposed he could check his email again, see if there was anything new in the paper trail about Orlov and Custos. What sort of name was Custos, in any event? Yes, he knew it was Latin. . .just like Janus was. But at least Alec Trevelyan chose a pseudonym that made sense.

Janus was the Latin god of doorways, of beginnings and endings. The two-faced god, one face directed to the past, and the other to the future. That made sense. Sebastian stopped and thought about it, then shuddered. Something Janus did actually made sense? That was almost as frightening as M behaving like an ordinary human! She had actually been nice to him during the last few weeks. It made him wonder what was wrong. And 002 always just smiled benignly when Sebastian asked him about it.

Custos, on the other hand. . .it meant 'sentinel' or 'guardian.' He supposed it could be an allusion to Janus. Janus was the god of doorways, and Custos was a sentry for those doors. It seemed, though, that Janus was a lot better at hiding the end source of the money trail, he. . .

Wait. The money trail. Sebastian stopped in his tracks, thinking it through. That was the missing piece! That was how he would find out where Rowanne Bramwell was. Find Rowanne Bramwell, and he might well have the final piece of the puzzle. They only heard from Bond and Natalya Simonova. Rowanne could very well tell them what they needed to know, to clear Alec's name once and for all.

* * *

William Pryce-Meecham was not exactly idle during these last two weeks. While Sebastian was learning what he could about the girl in the photos, William was piecing more of the puzzle together. Arkangelsk, St Petersburg, Cuba. In addition to 006, William had 004 and 008 working on the remains of the Janus base in Cuba. After Alec's death, someone resubmerged the satellite dish in the lake.

M had done a very thorough job of sweeping all of this under the rug, with considerable aid from Jack Wade. But perhaps it was necessary at the time. In addition, she was very inexperienced at the time. He knew that 004 and 008 were seasoned divers, and he asked them to cover the entire compound. That included the lake. This time, they would bring Alec Trevelyan's body home, and they would give him the hero's burial he deserved.

That was scheduled for yesterday. . .the dive. However, William was still catching up on the last several reports. As 006 indicated, Orlov was indeed in Cuba, in the Janus base at the time of Goldeneye's ultimate failure. They forwarded the notes they found to his email address, and it was this that he was reading now. Orlov, it seemed, was most displeased with Alec's tendency to leave Bond with an escape route. There was no need for him to tell Bond that the timer was set for three minutes, rather than six. His hold over the former spy was slacking.

And he blamed it on the girl. He never spoke of her by name, William noticed as he read the reports. It was always, 'the girl.' As if she wasn't worthy enough to be named. The old man snorted. Heh. . . that was reason enough for 002 to like her! Orlov hated her with a passion, though they never spoke. She sought to give Janus comfort (another reason for 002 to like the child), though she had no idea what he was. The silly girl thought he was just another human being. She didn't see that Janus was so far beyond human. He was a perfect weapon. . .but his blade was being dulled.

Unfortunately, he couldn't take the girl out himself, because he couldn't afford to let Janus see him. If the boy saw him, there was a strong chance that the part of him that was Alec Trevelyan would re-assert himself. That could not be permitted. Orlov tried to convince Xenia Onatopp to deal with the girl, since she despised the silly little bitch as well. . .however, she had other things, far more important. Bond was more of a threat, she said.

She had no idea whom Orlov was. Had no idea that he created Janus. Besides, he came to realize that she cared for Janus, as much as she was capable of caring for anyone. And Ourumov was dead. . .killed by Bond. So, he could only be around Janus when exhaustion overwhelmed him and he slept. Again, this was far more difficult than it ever was before. He spent most of his nights with the girl.

His notes ended the night before Bond took out Goldeneye. Knowing what he did now, William had to wonder if the monstrous doctor was setting them up, as he did before Arkangelsk. Well, no matter. He owed this to Alec, this and so much more. He reached into the top drawer of his desk, pulling out a photograph. It was William and Alec, the young man smiling brightly at the camera, his green eyes alight with joy and relief. He had done it, he had made it!

William remembered when this picture was taken. He saw in his own features the pride that he always felt when one of his boys successfully made the transition to double-oh status. Alec looked so young and so eager. Blinking back tears (bloody old age was turning him into a sentimental old fool), William put the picture away and returned his attention to the reports from Cuba. That was the end of the Orlov notes.

However, the lads did find the apartments used by 'the girl' while she was in Cuba. Sebastian thought as much, now here was the proof. The clothing they found was too small to fit Xenia Onatopp, and not exactly her style. There were few items in the room, aside from her clothes. It didn't seem to be the room of a prisoner, and William concurred after reading Orlov's notes. If the girl was a prisoner, the bastard would have never resented her as he did. And he certainly would have never felt threatened by her.

It was while he was reading this report that the phone call came. William picked up the phone on the second ring, and immediately heard the excited chatter from 004. So excited, in fact, that he couldn't understand a word out of the boy's mouth. First he had to calm the boy down. Then he had to process what he was just told. It sounded too unbelievable to be true. And yet, despite it all, he couldn't help his heart beating faster with hope.

How could this be? They dragged the lake, and they found a body. But it wasn't Alec's. The autopsy and examination took a little longer, because the body was both badly charred and just as badly decomposed from being in a lake for nine years. To say nothing of a warm lake in Cuba. In the end, they had to do a skeletal analysis. But one thing was sure. While they had their suspicions about whom it was, they could say, with all honesty, that it wasn't Alec.

After questioning 004, then 008 thoroughly, he finally rang off, though not before bidding the young agents to keep looking around the remains of the base. William's hands shook as if palsied as he hung up the phone, his mind whirling with the ramifications.

He tried to get back to work, but images kept dancing through his mind. Alec at his graduation to double-oh status. James, when he returned from Cuba. Less than a moment later, the door to his office flew open. William looked up, on the verge of chastising whoever was there for not knocking, when he realized it was 006. Sebastian was breathing heavily, as if he ran all the way here from his own desk. His eyes were wide with shock.

For the second time in less than ten minutes, William's heart jumped. He knew, even before Sebastian spoke, what he would say. But he stared at the young man, silently willing him to speak. . . willing him to confirm what William already knew in his heart. And Sebastian didn't disappoint him. He didn't even apologize for entering without knocking. He just blurted out, almost breathlessly, "Alec Trevelyan is alive!"

_Where was he, what happened to him, how did he survive when the satellite tower fell? He knew the young agent was badly injured, how did he survive, and did it have something to do with the body found the day before_? However, he asked none of those questions. Instead, he pointed to a chair and said, "Tell me." Just those two words, but that was all that was necessary. Sebastian collapsed into the chair, and did exactly what William asked of him.


	3. The Past Comes A'Calling

Just call me a writing fool. . .I've worked on '_Caught in the Game Again_,' '_Heart Bound in Chains,' 'Silent Guardian_,' and even '_Med-jai in Middle-earth'_ this weekend. And it ain't over yet. Just a quick note. . .some of the answers are in this chapter, but I've spaced it out over several. So just please be patient, I'll get there. Also, some research has shown that the 002's mentioned in the movies are dead. . .so we'll just consider William to be the first 002, though technically, he's retired as an agent with a license to kill in the line of duty.

Reviews!

Alleymap: M? Admit that she protects any of her agents? Never happen. Especially since she still has to prove herself. I also enjoy writing about that fine line, and I think it would be totally implausible to believe that someone like James Bond wouldn't be coming close to crossing that line at that point in his career. Especially where Alec is concerned, because he's somewhat irrational in that respect. While my stories are one hundred percent het, even I could see how much James loved Alec. . .and how much it devastated to lose him, first by thinking that he was dead, then Alec's unmasking as Janus. Yeah, I think one brush with Xenia would be enough to turn Sebastian off dating for a while, and he bluntly admits that she scares the bloody hell out of him. I loved your line about Bond. He's been tortured, but he hasn't been broken, and there's a huge difference. Mentally, he knows it's possible, but in some ways, Q's repeated, 'Grow up, 007' in the movies has validity. In some ways, he is a child who has never truly grown up, and he can't believe that a person exists who can break him.

Rowanne? Judge for yourself, but I think like Alec being martyr, traitor and victim, she's a mixture of all three. . .friend, lover, and one lost soul recognizing another. But then, aren't those usually the fun characters? The ones who aren't any one thing?

Hali: Yes, Alec does indeed live! Hope you enjoy the rest of this!

Caught in the Game Again

Chapter Two

The Past Comes A'Calling

MI-6 Headquarters, London, England

One week later

"Puerto Rico? Why Puerto Rico? Charles, what is going on?"

Sebastian Miller barely managed to keep from rolling his eyes. Only M's steady gaze kept him from reacting to the incredulity in 007's voice. It was bad enough that M was doing this herself, instead of allowing Sebastian and 002 to finish what they started. But he had a sneaking suspicion that M was manipulating 007 into coming with her and Robinson. He also had a suspicion that she would succeed. If he didn't want so badly to go with them, he would allow himself to admire her skill in manipulating Bond.

It was good to know that while Bond manipulated others to get what he wanted, others could also manipulate him. Childish, but Bond brought out the worst in Sebastian. M replied calmly, "Charles and I are going to Puerto Rico to speak with a possible ally. You know, of course, that 006 and 002 have been working on the Custos investigation over the last few months. During the course of his investigation, 006 turned up a few leads which I wish to check out personally. It seems Custos has an ally, Dr Orlov, who conducted memory experiments on human subjects. The man we are going to see is one of his victims. . .someone who has ample reason to help us."

"Well, yes, I understand that," Bond said patiently, "but why isn't 004 or 008 going?" Sebastian did a slow burn at this dismissal of his own abilities. It was bad enough that M wanted to do this alone, but to have Bond dismiss him as being beneath his notice? It was taking all of his self-control to keep from blurting out the truth. His self-control, and his promise to 002 that they would allow M to handle this.

William was hardly surprised when he learned that M launched her own investigation, in light of what Sebastian learned. Despite his best efforts, she realized that he was fond of Alec, and wanted an objective investigation conducted. He quietly informed the younger agent that M would go to Puerto Rico, because she felt it was her responsibility of the head of MI6. After the separate investigations discovered that Alec Trevelyan survived the destruction of Goldeneye and had quietly lived in Puerto Rico for the last nine years, there was no stopping M. Especially after 004 and 008 came up the latest information regarding the supposedly-defunct Janus Organization.

It was assumed, nine years earlier, that with Alec Trevelyan's death, Janus would cease to exist. It did not. The organization went underground, but reformed within the last five years. But the best was yet to come. According to the two agents, Janus was not only reformed and even stronger than ever. . .but it was now an anti-terrorist unit. Sebastian nearly fell out of his chair while reading _that_ bit of information.

And he was sure William would weep from sheer pride in his 'boys,' bugger the stiff upper lip! This was reason to celebrate! Alec was alive, he didn't betray them willingly, and he turned his crime syndicate into an anti-terrorist unit. Although, perhaps, 'unit' was a misnomer. Maybe it would have been better to say, 'anti-terrorist army,' as large as the syndicate became.

"I'm going with you," Bond said, drawing Sebastian's attention back to the conversation. His tone was very definite, there was no room for argument. Bond said, "I trust Charles, but if this meeting goes badly, you'll need all the help you can get." And there was a better than even chance that would happen. Against the advice of both 002 and 006, M was going unannounced. Something Sebastian considered a mistake.

However, as usual, M had her reasons. First, she rightly pointed out that Alec could refuse to see them if she requested a meeting with him. They had no way of knowing how he regarded England or MI6 right now. Secondly, she wanted to surprise him, and thus, get a better idea of what he was like. To which, William retorted_, invading his home may give you a better idea than you would like. He is a former double-oh agent. . .not a hapless civilian who will simply freeze at your arrival. _

She knew that. She was counting on that. And, she was taking measures to protect herself. Sebastian rubbed his forehead, sighing with exhaustion. M said quietly, "Well, if you wish to come with us, 007, you are of course welcome. However, it was my understanding that Miss Simonova was arriving in London at the end of the week." _Ooooh! Nicely done! Remind him of his former girlfriend, who gave him the boot after she caught him in bed with another woman_.

Bond's jaw tightened and he replied, "You understood correctly. . .however, Natalya will be here briefly, to ensure the last virus caused no lasting effects." M and Robinson exchanged a look, then Bond repeated, "I'm going with you. My instincts tell me that things will not go as planned. And Charles will need help if I'm right." _Which, of course, I am_, were the unspoken words. Arrogant bugger.

M inclined her head and turned to her desk, to pick something up. Sebastian recognized it as Trevelyan's file, all the information they found in the last few weeks. M looked straight at him. . .and winked. Actually winked! With a wicked little grin, she left the office, Robinson and Bond right behind her. As they left, Sebastian could hear Bond ask, "By the way. . .what is the name of this mysterious new ally of yours, M?"

Sebastian could just hear the mischief in M's voice as she replied, "Well, we have no way of knowing what his birth name is. However, the name he was given as a child growing up in a Cornish orphanage is 'Alexander Michael Trevelyan.' Or, more commonly, 'Alec,' 007." There was a brief moment of stunned silence, then Sebastian grinned impishly as Bond's shouted, '_What_!' could be heard throughout the building.

Oh, he would truly enjoy being a fly on the wall for the upcoming confrontation! For now, however, Sebastian had his own travel plans to make. . .because if this went poorly, they would need Sebastian and William to pick up the pieces. And after all the research done and all the effort he put in during the last month, Sebastian really wanted to meet Alec Trevelyan. The older agent became something of a hero to him.

Sebastian left M's office, whistling slightly. Yes, first he would make his travel plans, along with William's. Then he would go home and pack. He wouldn't ask Miss Moneypenny to do this. No sense in that, not if he didn't want M and the others to know that they were coming. He could get himself into trouble. . .or be recognized for his initiative. Either way, he was going.

* * *

Puerto Rico, April 2004 (two days later) 

The moon hung high in the Puerto Rican night, reflecting the glory of the sun on the opposite end of the Earth. It was a clear night, and the grand, rebuilt house was made all the breathtaking by moonlight shining on the white exterior. It was a peaceful sight, yet those preparing to enter, found no peace. This mission should not be happening. They shouldn't be here, of all places. On such a clear night, they shouldn't even be out. Too bloody easy to be spotted. Even if everyone inside was asleep.

And yet, here they were. The blue eyes swept over the mansion, casing it in an experienced manner. It was once the home of a wealthy family, based in upstate New York. The Bramwells. Ten years earlier, most of the house was destroyed in a fire. The skeleton of the house remained, as well as some of the secret passages. It was through those secret passages that they would seek, and find, access to the new house.

Up until two days earlier, his life was business as usual. Thwart a megalomaniac here, destroy a traitor there. Then someone (_bloody 006, of course_) looked in the archives, and found something missed during the Goldeneye incident. Not that he cared. He spent the last ten years trying to forget. . .trying not to think about the Goldeneye incident. The only good thing about that was meeting Natalya Simonova.

People in their line of work had a short life expectancy, and few friends. Sometimes, though, someone would push through those protective barriers. Sometimes, a fierce, fraternal love would develop for another agent. . .and that could lead to devastating betrayals, as he knew. He thought that part of his life was behind him. He thought he could be safe in never thinking of, or remembering, the traitor again.

Until this mission. Until two days earlier, when everything he thought he knew was thrown into chaos. Again. And against his will, he was forced to remember a beloved brother, once thought dead. . .found alive, and a traitor. He watched him die a second time, and this time, he was sure it was over. Until last night, when the full details were revealed to him about the mission. He was a professional. He wasn't supposed to feel this strange mixture of fear, anger, hatred, relief and frustration.

And yet he was. He did. The man didn't know what to make of that, so he pushed it aside. He had a job to do, and there was another who was depending on him right now. Not a field agent, and in a way, a liability. But he was given no choice. It had to be done, thanks to his supervisor. And they would do it. They made their way through the bushes which hid the secret passages, guided by the blue prints, so generously provided by the architects who rebuilt the house two years earlier.

He really didn't want to know how they came by those. Something didn't seem right about how easily the architects gave up the requested information. First, they received a huge amount of money to build a house around the skeleton of the old. Then, they were tapped by the British government, to find out more about the people who hired them to rebuild that house. It didn't raise any alarms for them? They just turned over the requested information, without a fuss? Something wasn't right.

Up, up, up they went, climbing the stairs. There were three of them, hardly the typical mission. He smiled in spite of himself, a humorless smile. There really was no such thing as a typical mission, but this was more unusual than most. One was a field agent, another a staff member, and the third had very little practical experience in the field. That was why he was here. A soft voice from behind him whispered, "This is it. This is the entrance they mentioned." Remembering what he was told, he felt along the wall, his hand grazing what felt like a bump.

The third member of their group whispered, "Open sesame." And it did. He stepped out of the passage, and into the house. The agent gave himself a few moments to orient himself as his two companions stepped inside behind him. He looked around. . . the blueprints provided to them were off. They were, instead of on the main level of the house, on the second floor. The level where the children slept. Curiosity getting the better of him, he slipped to a small table a few yards from the top of the staircase.

He ignored the voice whispering his name, and instead, focused on the contents of the table. Pictures. Family pictures. How _terribly_ amusing. In the center was a photo of a pleasant-faced young woman with dark hair and brown eyes. No raving beauty, and hardly the sort to draw a man's eye at first glance. She was smiling at the photographer, holding a small girl on her lap.

The girl looked to be about six or seven years old. . .red-haired and green-eyed. A precious little girl, her eyes sparkling with laughter and mischief. . .almost as if her mother was tickling her. That wasn't possible, of course, not if the mother and photographer wanted the child to be still for the picture.

There was another photo, sitting to the left of center. A young girl, with dark-blonde hair and blue-gray eyes. Her face was heart-shaped, and she looked to be about sixteen or seventeen years of age. A school photo? Could very well be. Perhaps taken this year, or the previous year. It was hard to be certain without further study. She wasn't smiling in the picture, but she also wasn't frowning. It seemed to be her attempt at a Mona Lisa smile.

Of course, it didn't do so well. . .not on the face of a teenaged girl. But he had to give the girl points for trying. His eyes shifted to another picture, this time with that same teenaged girl, with the child he saw in the first picture. The younger girl was locked in the arms of the older. . .were they sisters? They didn't look that much alike, but it was his best guess. Sixteen and eight. Same father and different mothers? Most likely. And eight years was not a bad age difference for siblings. . .Alec was six years younger than himself. And he quickly banished that thought.

There was another photograph, set a little behind the second picture, showed the first young woman, looking only a few years older than the teenaged girl. She cradled a baby, a newborn, in her arms. She was smiling, but there was an aching sadness in her eyes. There were more pictures, but it was the picture to the right of the first one that really held his attention. Again, it was the young woman. . . but this time, she was in the arms of a man. A man familiar to the intruder. . .no, a man whom he knew. He felt bile rise in his throat, because for the first time. . .

For the first time, it was real to him. He stared at the face of the man, willing it to change. But it didn't. Everything was the same. Everything. . . He knew the pale hair and pale eyes. He knew the features. And if it was an audio feed, he would have known the voice as well. The only thing that seemed alien was the tender smile as he gazed at the young woman in his arms.

It was real. It really happened. He clenched his fists at his sides, fighting with his entire being to keep from throwing the picture across the hall. It was real. The nightmare came back, and this time, there was no escape. James Bond, 007, Commander in the MI6 branch of the British Government, swallowed hard. How in the hell did Alec Trevelyan survive the fall, and the destruction of Goldeneye?

And what would James Bond have to do, to make sure he stayed dead this time?

* * *

The moon hung high in the Puerto Rican night, reflecting the glory of the sun on the opposite end of the Earth. It was a clear night, and the grand, rebuilt house was made all the breathtaking by the moonlight shining on the white exterior. It was a peaceful sight, yet some inside the house lacked that peace. In the huge master bedroom, two figures lay in bed. One slept peacefully. The other figure, however. . .

The nightmare woke him. The fall. . .the burning wreck that would crush him. . . sometimes, too, muddled images that made no sense. And then he would wake up, crying out. He sat up, swiping at the sweat trickling down his face (_sweat or tears_). A soft pair of arms slid around his waist, and he looked back into a pair of concerned eyes. The woman at his side murmured, her voice rough with exhaustion, "Alec? What is it?"

He smiled at her wanly, rubbing the arms at his waist, and leaned down to kiss her forehead, murmuring, "Go back to sleep, love. I'm fine. Shhh. . .just sleep." She smiled sleepily, then her eyes drifted shut once more. Alec Trevelyan carefully disengaged himself from her, placing her arms on the bed at her sides. She was up nearly seventy-two hours straight, while their daughter was sick.

Early the previous morning, her fever broke and Alec carried this young woman downstairs to the master bedroom. She could barely walk from her exhaustion, and even as tired as she was, she couldn't sleep. Alec assigned his eldest daughter, who was seventeen, to watch over her sister. He would take care of this woman, who put the pieces of Alec Trevelyan back together.

She finally fell asleep in his arms around two that afternoon. Typical. She waited until after he ate lunch and saw to the girls before she would finally let go. For the last nine hours, she slept. . .but Alec would not relax until she regained the remaining hours she lost. He lightly caressed her cheek, murmuring, "It's my turn to take care of you, Rowanne. . .I won't fail you this time."

He leaned forward and kissed her cheek this time, before rising from the bed. He was very cautious about it, because she might still wake. Once he was safely out of their bed, Alec walked to the window. Three weeks in a row, he had that nightmare. It troubled him, on many levels. There was a part of him which feared that he was being given a warning, but he couldn't decide what the warning was for.

Was MI6 about to stake a claim on his soul once more? Good luck to them. His soul belonged to him now, him and the young woman in the bed. Janus was now just a title. . .a title and an organization. He was Alec Trevelyan now, a hard fight that was won, and MI6 would have one helluva fight on their hands if they wanted him back. Or was it the people who did this to him, who created Janus. . .were the dreams warning him about their return?

If that was, indeed, the case, they were in the same situation as MI6. Alec worked too bloody hard after regaining consciousness four years earlier to put himself back together. He almost threw away his new life, and for something stupid. He would not be so stupid a second time. He knew how lucky he was. . .not just to survive, but to receive a second chance. He could have died. He should have died. But here he was.

Again, he looked over Rowanne. She now lay curled on her side. It sometimes amazed him. . .even living in Puerto Rico, she became cold at night. Now, she curled into a ball, trying to conserve warmth. He smiled softly, a vague memory of thinking he no longer had a soul dancing through his mind. That was untrue. Many things Alec Trevelyan believed about himself were untrue. And others. . .who could say?

He turned his attention to the night and the moon in the sky. Thus, he was surprised when a hoarse voice asked, "The nightmares again?" Alec turned back to the bed and smiled wearily. Well. It looked like he wasn't as good at stealth as he once was. _You're getting old, Trevelyan_, he thought, _losing your edge. Need to work on that, old boy. No matter what you want, the girls might still be in danger_. He walked back to the bed and sat down beside his lady, smoothing the dark hair from her eyes, as he continued to stare out the window.

That was the only answer he was capable of giving. It was also the only one that was necessary. He felt the bed shift as she pushed herself into a sitting position, her face reflecting some pain after lying in one position for so long. Now upright beside him, she gently kissed the back of his shoulder, lips brushing against an old scar, and he sighed softly. That was something she enjoyed. . .kissing his scars, as if trying to take the pain away. None of his scars repulsed her. They never did.

She lay back down, drawing him with her. He lay his head on her chest, feeling her fingers slide through his hair, a gentle, soothing motion. Alec could feel her heart beat, strong and steady, and took comfort from the sound. The nightmares about Goldeneye's destruction weren't the worst. The worst nightmares were his past catching up with. . .and destroying. . .his present and his future. He closed his eyes, and she murmured, "You don't need to protect me, Alec."

"Yes, I do. We've had peace from the outside world for nine years. Our luck can't hold forever, Rowanne. Besides, it's my job to take care of you right now, not the other way around. Go back to sleep," he breathed against her skin. He felt her shiver, but she kept stroking his hair as if he was the same age as their little girl. Sassy. Such an appropriate pet name for her. She had spirit and fire to spare, and Alec sometimes looked at her in wonder that this child came from his loins. Perhaps it was her age, perhaps it was growing up as she did. But she was so different from Alec when he was a child.

Loved. . .adored, even. . .by her parents. Sassy Trevelyan spent the first four years of her life with only one parent. But that parent made her the center of her world. Her mother would kill for her. His Rowanne, who was so very different when he first met her. The innocent, naive daughter of American privilege, who was so terribly easy for Janus to manipulate. So easy to manipulate, because her mother always joked that her sisters received her share of the beauty.

It was an oversimplification, of course. But Rowanne didn't see that. It wasn't good enough for her to be bright. She wanted to be desirable as well, and couldn't find that with the college boys she knew. Foolish children who didn't bother to look beyond the obvious. He, however, could. He could, and he did. Though not even he could see what she would become. Sweet Rowanne, who received her first kiss from Janus.

And he received so much more in return. When he nearly died in Cuba, it was she who provided the doctors to heal his broken body. Once he awoke, she was his anchor. Sometimes, when the nightmares would permit him no sleep, he would watch her sleep. For everything that happened to her, everything that he did to her, she still had some of that innocence, that sweetness, that he found so irresistible ten years earlier.

Alec still didn't remember a great deal, but what he did remember. . . He didn't want to. Alec raised himself onto one elbow, so he could see her properly. She was still awake. What a surprise. She smiled, caressing his cheek, and said, "You know, I think I like it better when I wake you up." Alec almost snorted. . .yes, he was quite certain that she did! In truth, he preferred it as well. It was far more pleasant to wake up to her mouth against his torso than jolt awake after a nightmare.

She fell silent, her eyes locking onto his as she caressed his cheek. His once-again smooth, unmarred skin. After he awoke, and his memories began to return to him, he learned that it was her family's plastic surgeon who dealt with his scars. She gave that to him. It was not shame at his appearance, nor revulsion, but a desire to protect him. He accused her of that, but she reminded him that she never shied away from his scars. Any of them. But those same scars marked him as Janus. It was a chance for Alec Trevelyan to be Alec Trevelyan, and thus, banish Janus for all time.

He would have borne those scars as penance. Most of his regrets were focused around James Bond, whom Alec wanted to hate, but couldn't. His quest for vengeance in his parents' names destroyed everything. And he nearly destroyed his new life, once his memories returned. He almost killed Rowanne and Sassy. It was Sassy who saved both parents. Sassy, who wouldn't move away from her mother, even when ordered. At least Sabrina wasn't here at the time. . .at least she was spared that.

Alec didn't know if Sassy inherited that from him. . .he didn't remember what he was like as a child. And he could remember little of his early life. There was one thing he knew by heart. In 1945, Great Britain betrayed the Liensk Cossacks, including his parents. His mother was pregnant when she and his father were forced to return at bayonet point to the Soviet Union. And she lost that child, Alec's older brother, when she and Alec's father jumped off the trucks bearing them back to Stalin.For the next several years, as they hid, his father's shame grew.

Alec was born in the summer of 1959, and his father's shame intensified. He saw Alec's birth as further proof that he failed his oldest son. In 1962,Vesseney Denisov once more made a desperate break for freedom with his wife and small son. This time, the Denisov family succeeded and it shattered what remained of Vesseney's sanity. When Alec was a few months past his third birthday, his father killed his mother, then took his own life. Alec wasjustput down for his nap, and that was what sparedhis life.

The British Government took responsibility, belatedly, for the blond toddler. He was raised in a Cornish orphanage, the government paying for his education when he reached University. After graduation, he was recruited by MI6, eventually becoming one of its finest agents. It wasn't until Alec was almost thirty that he discovered the full truth, and the discovery sent him to his knees.

He didn't think he considered turning the tables on the betrayers, until he was captured at Arkangelsk. Alec remembered little of that day. And what he did remember, he didn't trust. It was damn near impossible to admit, but Alec couldn't always tell the difference between planted memories and true memories. He knew that mind-altering drugs were used on him. To this day, there were still gaping holes in his memory. When did he make the choice to betray England? Before or after he was captured? When did he choose to become Janus? He had no answers.

The only memories he could trust were from the seven years leading up to Goldeneye and the ones from the last four years, ever since he woke up. That was real. . .that was true. Even if some of his memories he would prefer not to have. Such as pressing his pistol to the forehead of the woman who gave him back his life. He and Janus struggled for dominion, when the last of his memories returned. They struggled for dominion, and Alec's soul. Alec won.

Janus was furious that this woman took his syndicate and turned it into an anti-terrorist unit. Alec wouldn't let him kill her, though. For two reasons. Firstly, because he couldn't allow Sassy to be harmed. He grew up without parents. . .he would not permit the same thing to happen to his daughter. The other reason? Rowanne. . .Rowanne knew what it was like to lose family.

That was what led her to recreate Janus. In keeping with the Janus mythology, she took the title of 'Juturna,' one of Janus' wives. She promised she would tell him the reason for that, but as yet, had not. In the meantime, he learned how to read this young woman, because she was far different than he remembered her. Rowanne had become even better at hating than Alec. To someone who almost destroyed himself with hatred, that was a frightening thought, indeed.

And yet. . .she wasn't hollow, wasn't empty. Not like Alec was. Rowanne had her family, her brother and her sisters, her parents. She had people who loved her. And Alec? Before Arkangelsk, he had nothing. Nothing except MI6. Nothing but James. He had her now. . .he had her, he had their daughters. And he would do anything, anything in the world for them.

He kissed her again, this timebrushing her lips. Even before he almost died, even before she became the woman he knew now. . .he enjoyed kissing her. He enjoyed her innocent passion, her delight at every new discovery, her willingness to try new things. He didn't always leave room for her to argue. . .very well, he rarely did. But, still, she embraced each experiment. That was one of the few memories he could trust.

He didn't fall in love with her until after he awakened. She was his anchor, the only thing in this strange new life that he could trust. His operatives were shadowy figures, in the beginning. They kept their distance. . .doubtless at Rowanne's request. He was much different, after his awakening. Losing one's memories had that effect, or so he learned. Sometimes, losing one's memory could totally change one's personality.

And in the beginning, he didn't care about his amnesia. The Liensk Cossacks, MI6, Goldeneye, James Bond. . .they were all just shadowy memories that meant little to him. It wasn't important. Now was all that mattered to him. The quiet young woman with the gentle smile and the sweet little girl who seemed to sense how lost he felt. . .that was the only reality he knew. That was the only reality that was important to him. Not the strange dreams of death and destruction, despair and ash.

He fell in love with her, because he felt safe with her. She was his sanctuary, his refuge, even after everything he did to her. She wasn't left unscathed by Goldeneye or by Janus. She was angry with him, so angry with him, and rightfully so. But. . .her love was stronger than her anger, and in that knowledge, he found his sanctuary. He married her two years earlier, because he loved her, because he felt safe with her, because their daughters needed both parents. Alec exhaled slowly, allowing his body to relax against his wife's. For a few, brief moments, it seemed like they could both go back to sleep.

It was then that they heard it. The ever-so-distinctive 'thud' of boots. _Combat _boots. The couple froze. Alec's eyes narrowed, and he murmured to his wife, "Remain here." She shook her head, reaching for the gun inside her nightstand. Before she met him, she never even held a gun. Now she was almost as good a shot as he was. Alec repeated, determined to protect his wife, "Stay here, Rowanne. It may be one of the girls, going to the bathroom." Now her expression mirrored only exasperation.

"Don't insult my intelligence, Alec. Neither Sabrina nor Sassy wear combat boots. In fact, I don't think it would even occur to Sabrina to wear combat boots. Corliss does as a fashion statement. . .but she's not here yet. I _am_ going with you, Alec. Now be quiet before you alert our uninvited guests that we're awake!" Rowanne fired back, kicking off the covers then shimmying into her pajama bottoms.

Alec rolled his eyes in exasperation. _Stubborn mule of a woman_! Rowanne would have told him, of course, that he had no room to talk. He shrugged into the bathrobe he kept at his bedside. Walking into an ambush half-naked was not good for the psyche, and Alec's psyche was disturbed enough.

He drew his pistol from under his pillow, slipping off the safety, then left the room. The soft breath in his hair told him that his wife right him. They made their way upstairs, making very little noise in their bare feet. Alec's lips thinned with fear and anger when he saw someone outside hisdaughter's rooms. It was tall and broad-shouldered, clad entirely in black, and he had a momentary flashback to Arkangelsk.

'_I'm alone_.' '_Aren't we all_?' Arkangelsk. James. The day which turned his life upside down. The flashback rattled Alec and he leaned against the wall for support. Unfortunately, he leaned a little too heavily, his hand impacting with the wall and pain shooting up his wrist into his arm and shoulder. The figure whirled around and greeted, "Hello, Alec. . .why can't you be a good boy and die?"

Trevelyan's blood ran cold. His past haunted him, ever since all of his memories returned. But not like this. Never like this. And Alec knew, if he made even one wrong move, he could jeopardize his entire family. But Rowanne had a freedom he did not. She knew that, and aimed her pistol at James Bond's chest, demanding, "Step away from my daughter's bedroom, Commander, and I'll consider not killing you!"

The intruder was already on thin ice, with even the appearance of threatening Rowanne's child. Alec learned the hard way what his wife was capable of doing if Sassy was threatened. Unfortunately, Bond didn't much care. His hand shot out and snagged Rowanne's wrist, tightening his grip until her pistol fell from her hand, then Bond pulled her back against his own body, pressing the butt of the pistol against her right temple. Tit for tat. . .Rowanne for Natalya.Rowanne cried out in shock and Alec's fingers tightened around his pistol, but didn't fire. He didn't have a clear shot.

"What comes around goes around, eh, Alec? Put the gun down, and I won't kill the girl," Bond sneered. Alec made eye contact with Rowanne, and tried not to notice how tightly Bond was gripping her bare shoulder. It would leave bruises. Rowanne smiled at him reassuringly, but he could see the fear in her eyes. She had every right to be afraid. She wasn't a spy, she wasn't trained to deal with situations like this. It was up to him.

He aimedhis own pistol between Bond's eyes,hissing, "Take your hands off my wife, 007!" So intent was Alec on protecting his wife, that he forgot something very important. . .to secure the area. Bond froze, and as Alec prepared to make sure Rowanne was all right, was unhurt, excruciating pain exploded in the back of his head. Bond removed the weapon from his hand as Alec crumpled to the ground at his feet.

He struggled to remain conscious. There were too many things. . .he needed to protect Rowanne. Bond was here, in his home. In his sanctuary, and he put his hands on Alec's woman. He could hear Rowanne screaming his name in terror and, '_let me go, let me go, let me go_!' As Alec forced his eyes open, he saw 007 double over as Rowanne drove her knee up into his unprotected groin. He must have let his guard slip when Alec hit the ground, because Alec never saw his wife turn.

If Alec's head didn't ache so terribly, he might have laughed. For kneeing him in the groin, Bond would probably never forgive Rowanne. Not that Alec's wife particularly cared, of course. He was in her way, she dealt with him. It was just that simple. Rowanne shoved Bond away and dove for Alec and her gun. Or was it his? It hardly mattered, and thinking about it made his head ache even worse.

He tried to tell her to go, to make sure the girls were safe, but Rowanne's arms wrapped around him, then his head was drawn to rest in her lap. There was a dull roaring in his ears, but through it, Rowanne whispered, "I have you, I have you, it's all right, Alec, I have you." He closed his eyes briefly, his head aching and nausea threatening him. Through the haze of pain, dizziness, and nausea, Alec heard a new sound.

A door burst open and Sabrina cried out, "You heard my step-mother. . .put the gun down! Sassy, stay behind me. . .I'll protect you!" As if the situation wasn't bad enough, it just got worse. Sabrina had Alec's temper. Not good. Not good at all.

His younger daughter made no comment, and Alec tried to lift his head to look at them. He could just barely make out his seventeen year old daughter aiming a water pistol at the intruders. And behind her, eight year old Sassy watched anxiously. Pride and fear warred in Alec's soul. Pride that his daughters were together. . .just like he and Rowanne taught them when there was a crisis, to remain together.

While Sassy was much better now, Sabrina agreed to let her little sister sleep in her room, just in case Sassy needed something. It was a nice sacrifice for a seventeen year old to make. On this night, he was especially grateful for that sacrifice. It was that sacrifice that allowed Rowanne to get even a little sleep tonight, before his nightmares woke them both up.

On the other hand, Sabrina was aiming a water pistol at the intruders. And that frightened Alec even more. They could shoot her, and claim that she was pointing a weapon at them! Never mind that it was a water pistol, there was no way to know in the dark. Alec tried to call out to her, but it was all he could do to keep from retching. James Bond was in his house, and Alec's daughter was aiming a water pistol at him.

His daughter, who never held a gun before her mother's death, before she came to live with the father whom she never knew. The father who never knew of her existence, for that matter. What had he done to his daughters? Was he, even now, destroying everything that mattered to him? Alec tried to struggle to his feet once more, but the waves of dizziness, and his wife's embrace, prevented that.

"That is enough! 007, put the gun down. . .I didn't bring you here to shoot children. Dear, no one will harm your family. We came to talk," a new voice said. Judging from the firm but gentle tone, the newcomer had experience dealing with teenagers. Alec tried to focus on that, but his head ached abominably. There were footsteps, then someone knelt in front of him, and put a finger under his chin.

He stared into a pair of blue eyes. A woman smiled at him and said, "Hello, Mr Trevelyan. . .I am M. It is a pleasure to meet you." M? M was a woman? This new M said, "Get him on his feet, and back to his room. My dear girl, please. . .put the gun away." The world tilted about him dizzily, and the last thing Alec Trevelyan heard before the darkness closed over him was his younger daughter crying out for him.

* * *

Her real name was Barbara Mawdsley, and she had been MI6's head for just under ten years. She became M only a few months before the Goldeneye was stolen. In those nine years, she learned to trust both her fellow bean counters and James Bond's instincts. Three weeks earlier, one of her agents was searching the archives for information on Alec Trevelyan, when he discovered something new. Or rather. . .someone.

She was tiny and dark-haired, a bit on the frumpy side. Pretty in a girl-next-door sort of way. Not Alec Trevelyan's usual type. But there she was, in countless pictures. She was pretty, dressed in finery, but had no idea how to carry herself. After Goldeneye, she disappeared. 007 didn't see her in Cuba or Russia. Nor did Natalya Simonova. But M's curiosity was piqued, and she wanted to know more.

It took a fortnight to find that information, but her agent was a determined man, even if he was working with his own agenda. . .or rather, with 002's agenda. The girl's name was Rowanne Justine Bramwell, and at the time the photos were taken, she was twenty-two years old. It was difficult to find information about her, because she had no criminal record.

There was something most interesting about her, despite her clean record. She disappeared around the same time as Alec Trevelyan's death. But she was still alive, they discovered. She was alive, because records revealed that a significant amount of money was withdrawn from the inheritance she received from her grandmother when she was nineteen years old. Rowanne Justine Bramwell was the only person who could have accessed that money. . .no one in her family had that capacity.

That wasn't all. Further research told them that Rowanne paid Bramwell surgeons to go to Puerto Rico. The Bramwells had a compound there. And from there, M began to suspect that perhaps Alec Trevelyan survived the destruction of Goldeneye. But questions remained. If he was alive, why was the Janus Syndicate still out of commission? What exactly was he up to? And how did he survive?

Five days earlier, M received her greatest surprise. Janus still existed. . .but it was now an anti-terrorist unit. At that point, M began conducting her own investigation. Two days after asking help from the Americans, they caught a break. Corliss Bramwell was traveling to Puerto Rico. An off-hand remark to a graduate school classmate confirmed that she planned to visit her older sister's family. The eldest sister, Diana, was dead. Lydia was a lawyer in Phoenix. That could only mean the sister was Rowanne.

Focus swung back to Puerto Rico. Two years after Goldeneye, Rowanne Bramwell reached the age of twenty-five, and received access to the trust fund created by her grandfather. By following that money trail, they learned that two years earlier, she commissioned architects to build a grand house around the ruins of an older one. . .which also belonged to the Bramwells.

She was identified by the banking records and by her photos, which they showed to the architects during M's interview with them. It was Rowanne Bramwell. An older, more sophisticated, more serious Rowanne Bramwell. There were streaks of silver in her dark brown hair, and circles under her eyes. But it was the same woman.

Surprisingly, none of the architects were killed. Surprising, because they also saw Rowanne's husband. A tall, blond man in his late thirties or early forties, with cool green eyes, who often dressed in black. He was very quiet, and unnerved them, they admitted. _Yes_, they confirmed, _she referred to the blond man as her husband. He had little to do with the plans for the house, and instead, spent most of his time with his daughters._

Daughters? Yes. . .there were two daughters. A fifteen year old, 'Sabrina,' and a six year old, whom they called 'Sassy.' No, they didn't know what her real name was. But she made the usually-solemn man smile, and she showed absolutely no fear of him. She sat in his lap and played with his fingers, or traced his features. She was an adorable little girl, and he obviously worshipped her.

What about the older daughter? Sullen. As if that was what she had to be, but they both saw the longing in her eyes when she looked at her little sister and their father. She was awkward about and aroundher father and her step-mother. Her step-mother pretended not to notice, and continued to treat Sabrina like a daughter. . .or a much younger sister.

So. Alec Trevelyan was very much alive, and living in Puerto Rico. Not surprisingly, both the current 006 and 002 already knew this. M still didn't know how Trevelyansurvived his injuries in Cuba, but she wanted to find those answers. The sooner, the better. Because if the rumors were true, and Janus was an anti-terrorist organization, they would have need of him. To that end, she booked three tickets to Puerto Rico. That was the easy part. 007 was another story.

In truth, she should have never brought him along. Where Alec Trevelyan was concerned, he had a tendency to be irrational. And Rowanne Trevelyan was too new to the espionage game to demand all copies of her home's blue prints. Or at least, warn the architects what would happen if the Trevelyan family was discovered in Puerto Rico. The architects were kind enough to prove MI6 with a complete blueprint of the house.

On the other hand, her own information was not only incomplete, but incorrect. Maybe Rowanne wasn't as inexperienced as she thought. The secret passage which was part of the original house remained. . .but it now led to the second floor. That was bad enough. But when they reached the hallway of that second floor, Bond saw something. . .something that led them to this pass.

A small table, with family photos. Several pictures of Rowanne with her daughter Anastasia. One or two of Sabrina Trevelyan. And the one that made 007 see red. . .the picture of Rowanne Bramwell Trevelyan locked in her husband's arms, laughing at the camera. Alec Trevelyan was smiling at his wife, his face clear of the scars. 007 froze, and it was at that moment that M realized her mistake.

Only moments later, Alec Trevelyan and his wife came upstairs, one behind the other, both with guns drawn. It was only fear for the young girls that prevented either of them from shooting first and asking questions later. They were in control of themselves, which was more than M could say for Bond. Then again, that was partly her own fault, as she lost control of the situation after Robinson cold-cocked Trevelyan from behind.

That wasn't entirely accurate, either. She lost control of the situation the moment Bond grabbed Rowanne Trevelyan's wrist and put the gun to her head. . .in full view of her obviously protective husband. Trevelyan responded by pointing his pistol between Bond's eyes, demanding that 007 release his wife. Before M had a chance to stop him, Charles Robinson brought his own pistol hard on the back of Trevelyan's head.

At that point, things became something of a comedy of errors. Bond ever so foolishly refused to release the young woman. . .and paid for it. Rowanne obviously learned a few things from her husband about fighting dirty. She took advantage of 007's inattention, twisted in his grasp and drove her knee up into Bond's groin, forcing him to release her. M was actually proud of her for doing it, though she'd never admit that to anyone. Much less Bond.

So now, they stared at each other, Rowanne Trevelyan supporting her unconscious husband's body, even as she aimed a gun at 007. This girl would die to protect her husband. But she was worth far more to M alive. If she continued pointing a gun at 007, it was all too likely that she would die. M gently pushed her wrist down, until the gun was pointed at the floor. She commanded, "007, put the gun down. The child is holding a water pistol on you."

Now chagrin was showing on the agent's face and he did as he was told with nary a remark. There was a first time for everything. Behind the teenager, M could hear the younger girl whimpering, "They hurt Daddy. . .why did they hurt Daddy, Sabrina?" The teenager put the water pistol to one side, her blue-gray eyes never leaving the intruders. She reached back and pulled her younger sister forward. That proved to be a mistake.

The youngster flew forward and attacked 007 with her fists, screaming, "You hurt my daddy! You're a bad man, you hurt my daddy!" The child's attack made M very glad the little girl didn't witness 007 holding a gun on the child's mother. Things might have been truly ugly. Rowanne Trevelyan eased her husband to the ground, slipped the safety on her pistol, then rose quickly to her feet.

She went to her daughter and pulled the sobbing child away from the still-stunned agent. M almost wished she had a camera. . .007, brought down by an eight year old and a teenager with a water pistol. No one back at headquarters would believe her. . .and this was something Q would want to see.

"Shhh, it's okay, baby," Rowanne soothed her daughter. She leveled a glare at the MI6 agents and said coldly, "There better be a damn good reason for this. You're on private property, and I would be well within my rights to shoot all three of you as trespassers." Her step-daughter moved closer to her, and M suddenly had the uneasy sense that she was looking at a future agent. Uneasy, because this girl was _entirely_ too young to stare that way.

"Is the apprehension of a known terrorist good enough reason for you?" Bond snapped, forgoing his usual attempt at witty banter. A sure sign that he was not amused. Well, that made two of them, because his behavior during the last few moments was anything but professional. Rowanne's spine straightened, her arms tightening around the small girl in her arms, and she took a step closer to 007. Robinson heaved Trevelyan up from the ground, and M reminded herself to have a word with him later. As she pointed out, they were on private property.

"Janus is an anti-terrorist unit. Maybe you don't understand penance and redemption, so here's something you will understand. We've been cleaning the mess my husband made before he almost destroyed himself. We created something. Can you say the same?" Rowanne fired back. M winced at that verbal blow, especially since 007 was known for blowing things up.

And as Alec Trevelyan's wife, she would no doubt know that. Rowanne Trevelyan glowered up at 007, continuing, "You're not in the United Kingdom. You're in Puerto Rico, an American commonwealth. What do you plan to do next? Contact the American authorities? They know, Mr Bond. They are quite aware of my husband's identity, as well as mine. As for you, put my husband down. _Gently_."

M froze as the house was filled with light. Light coming from helicopters overhead. Their reluctant hostess smiled coldly, even as feet pounded up the stairs. Within moments, they were surrounded by young men with rifles. Rowanne Trevelyan continued in a cool voice, "And did I mention that I could summon help with just a touch of a button? The second Alec and I heard you tromping around up here, I sent out a call."

Oh dear. This was bad. . .bordering on 'international incident' bad. She wasn't the only one who realized it, for Robinson had closed his eyes, shaking his head. But he did as Rowanne Trevelyan said and gently lowered Trevelyan to the ground. M chanced a look next at 007, who was staring fixedly at something or someone behind her. She turned to find a man around her own age standing there. He shook his head, asking with a Texan accent, "Aw hell. . .Jimbo, what have you gotten yourself into this time?"

"Wade?" the agent asked, staring at the American, "what the hell are you doing here? And why didn't you tell us that Janus survived?" The American just shook his head, and looked at Rowanne. The girl relaxed ever so slightly, but that didn't stop Sabrina from stepping closer to her step-mother protectively. The awkwardness seen by the architects was still there, but it existed now with a growing protectiveness. Since her step-mother was still holding her younger sister, Sabrina went to her father, hovering over him protectively.

"I'm the head of security for the Trevelyans. Have been for years. You okay, Ro?" the man called 'Wade' asked. She nodded and Wade told two of his men, "Take the boss downstairs, boys, and have some Tylenol ready for him when he wakes up." Two strapping young men took the still unconscious ex-spy from Sabrina's arms and gently carried him downstairs. Wade helped Sabrina to her feet. Rowanne held out a free hand to her step-daughter, which the girl took, still glaring at 007 in a most hateful manner.

The newcomer turned to M, saying, "Jack Wade, former CIA and former Marine. Maybe we should take this downstairs. First thing Al's gonna remember when he wakes up is his little girls, and you don't want to see Alec Trevelyan when he's afraid for his babies." That actually coaxed a smile from Rowanne, and M nodded to a still stunned Bond. As the group headed downstairs, M released a quiet sigh of relief. Disaster was averted. For now.


	4. Count the Reasons Why

Reviews! (Yes, I know, only two. . .I mean, three days since the last update, but I'm about two chapters ahead in writing)

Iolana (for chapter three): Aww, how could you tell I had fun writing that chapter? (cackles evilly) Honestly, I love writing M. She's such fun to write. Judi Dench is fantastic. . .I was watching '_Tomorrow Never Dies'_ the other day, and her exchange with Moneypenny at the beginning had me laughing hysterically ('Don't ask.' 'Don't tell.'). At this point, Bond really doesn't know much about. . .any of this. In a flashback sequence, which answers your question about who knows what, we find out that M agreed to let Rowanne and Alec tell Bond the truth, since William thought it would be more powerful coming from them. As for Alec remembering William. . .this chapter will answer that question, though I can promise a very powerful reunion. Orlov won't be a problem for several chapters, because right now, the pressing problem is the dynamic between Alec and James. They have to move past, or they won't be able to take down Custos and Orlov. Answers about Cassandra, Sabrina's mother, is coming in the chapter I'm working on right now. There will be more details about Janus and his reactions to Rowanne in this chapter. One thing that is taking shape is, Alec sees Janus as someone totally separate from himself. That may be necessary to his sanity. (snickers) I was laughing hysterically myself when I wrote the water pistol scene. In my universe, at least, Alec has never met M before. Since she dealt with numbers and statistics, I didn't think she ever met the agents before. Yes, he does have large pieces of his memory missing. . .and he's afraid of the memories he does have. In an upcoming chapter, he asks James, 'did I really do this?' referring to one of the events of Goldeneye, and James tells him, 'yes.' Poor Alec. I really do put him through the wringer. Some of your answers about Wade do come up in this chapter, but more are coming.

Steph: Oh yes, Sabrina definitely has her father's nerve! There can be no question there! And you're more right than you know about how much needs to be fixed. . .and how much really is right between them. I'm glad the patches work, because Alec and I went 'round and 'round on that. He finally convinced me to do it this way. (bloody annoying pain in the ass double-oh agent) More details about how the relationship between Alec and Rowanne came about in this chapter (it wasn't roses and chocolates, that's for sure).

I agree. . .James, like Alec, I swing back and forth between wanting to hug him and wanting to smack him clear into the next century. My best friend loathes him, and she's a big help when Rowanne and James get into it (which is at least once a chapter). . .they are very unwilling to trust each other.

Iolana (for chapter two): I may have mentioned this, but I love writing about Moneypenny, just as much as I love writing about M. Those two provide such wonderful inspiration. And I couldn't resist putting a bit of Moneypenny/Alec in there, as siblings. There's a bit more to Orlov targeting Alec, but you did provide me with a few things to flesh it out a little. As for the torture/beatings. . .William has not seen the footage, or at least, he hadn't. But he found references to it in the notes. How many more shocking revelations? Too many. They don't stop until the final chapter, I don't think. There are chapters without them, when I let the waters settle. . .it's necessary for the characters, the readers, and the writer, I think (rueful grin) Yeah, between chapters one and two, the conspirators took all of their notes to M, who, of course, conducted a separate investigation. As for whose body. . .you'll find out for sure next chapter. And Sebastian and William should be arriving either in chapter five or six. But very shortly.

On with the story!

Caught in the Game Again

Chapter Three

Count the Reasons Why

Jack Wade brought up the rear, pausing just long enough to make eye contact with his two men inside the master bedroom. They gently lay Al in the bed, then covered him up. They knew how to check for head injuries. . .and they would call for the Janus doctor if Al needed her. Satisfied that his boss was out of immediate danger, he continued to the den, which was used as an office by both Al and Ro.

Ro sat in her computer chair, still holding Sassy. The eight year old curled up in her mother's lap, still glaring at Jimbo. It was all Jack could do to keep from laughing. James Bond, super spy extraordinaire. . .and a pair of Trevelyan Furies brought him down. One of them a pint-sized Fury at that. Not surprisingly, Jimbo didn't look particularly amused. He went back and forth between glaring at Ro and glaring at his lady boss.

Ro, of course, was glaring right back. Damn, there were times when that girl was way too predictable. Still, it made up for all the times when she was so unpredictable, not even Al could figure out what she would do next. That was scary, because Al was even more unpredictable. He was usually quiet and reasonable. It was the unusual times that made Wade worry. Not just for Ro and the girls, but for Al.

"Well. Since we're all here now. . .I am Barbara Mawdsley, the current M for MI-6. This is Charles Robinson, and 007, James Bond. Your name is Rowanne Justine Bramwell Trevelyan. You were born January 8, 1972 in New York. Your parents are Jonah and Christine Bramwell. You have two living sisters, Lydia and Corliss, and one brother, Ethan, your fraternal twin. Your sister Diana died in 2001," Jimbo's boss began.

"She was murdered. Please get your facts straight," Rowanne interrupted in a clipped voice. _She has an interesting accent_, Wade thought, not for the first time. Ro retained her American accent, but there were hints of her husband's English accent as well. M hesitated, then inclined her head. Even so, even with that incorrect detail, Wade was impressed with what the head of MI-6 knew about his lady boss.

Hell, these were things Wade didn't know, not even after working for them for years! M continued, "You became involved with Alec Trevelyan in 1994, following him to Cuba in 1995. Some time in the last nine years, you married him. . .and turned Janus into an anti-terrorist organization, presumably in response to your sister's d. . .murder." _Nice catch_, Wade approved.

"Very good. I suppose you would like me to fill in the missing pieces?" Ro inquired, her tone acidic. Wade winced. _Damn girl, cool it. . .she ain't the enemy_! M, however, just stared at her. . .unless he was mistaken, there was actually compassion in the woman's eyes. Ro stared back, and Wade decided he couldn't blame her for being angry. Her home invaded, her husband attacked, her two daughters placed at risk.

And why? Sure, Wade was suspicious of Trevelyan when he first got his memories back. His first duty, ever since he left the CIA, was to protect Ro and Sass. That was his job. But Wade learned in the last few years that Alec Trevelyan would do anything in the world to protect all three of his girls. M said gently, "We would like to know why you never informed the proper authorities of your husband's survival."

Ro laughed, "The proper authorities? You? Please, don't insult my intelligence! I wasn't even sure he would survive. I can't even begin to tell you how many bones were broken when double-oh asshat there dropped him. It's a wonder my husband wasn't paralyzed, much less killed. As it was, both of his legs were broken in the fall. . .he sustained a terrible concussion. He had several broken vertebrae, broken bones in his arms."

She stopped long enough to draw a breath and kiss the top of her daughter's head. When she continued, her voice was much quieter, "He had several broken ribs, which in turn punctured his lungs. He was bleeding internally with a ruptured spleen, to say nothing of the tears in arteries caused by broken bones. He should have died before we even reached Puerto Rico. But Alec is stubborn, and he fought. We _all _fought for him."

Wade decided to ask the question that he knew both Jimbo and M were thinking. Tilting his head toward his lady boss, he said softly, "Maybe it's time you told all of us just why you saved him, Ro." She looked at him, her protective mask slipping briefly. Wade continued, making his voice as gentle as he could, "You know what he was, Ro. You know what he did, not just with Goldeneye, but even before. So why?"

"I'd like to know that myself," a hoarse voice said from the doorway. All eyes turned to Al, who still looked a little pale, but his eyes were focused and clear. Sassy squealed with joy and slid from her mother's lap to greet her father. Al was flanked by his two protectors, and Sassy stopped just short of throwing herself into her father's arms. Instead, she carefully took his hand and led him to the chair beside her mother's.

Ro reached over and took her husband's hand, caressing his forehead with her free hand. As ever, the affection between the pair made Wade uncomfortable, and he cleared his throat. Ro glared at him, but said in answer to her husband's question, "I suppose that's a fair question. And I wanted to wait until you were awake before I got into that part of it. Even though I don't think Bond has any right to ask that question."

"No," Al said calmly, "but I do." There was a half beat, then he added with an arched eyebrow, "And I thought we agreed not to use obscene language in front of the children?" Sabrina lost her scowl for the first time since the invasion and actually giggled. Al smiled at his older daughter as his younger daughter wriggled up into his lap. Ro ducked her head, but not before Wade saw her answering grin. She looked up and Al nodded soberly.

"You are, of course, correct. All right. Sabrina, Anastasia. . .I need you two to take care of your father," Ro explained. M started to protest, but Ro nailed the older woman with a cool stare, saying softly, "The girls know that their father did things he's not proud of. It's better if they learn it from us, rather than an enemy of Alec's. I don't plan to get explicit." _In other words,_ _don't tell me how to raise my children._

M inclined her head. After a moment, Ro took a deep breath and said, "Once upon a time, there was a young girl, the second child of a very rich man, the second child of five. She had precious little self-esteem, because she had a habit of listening to the wrong people at the wrong times and about the wrong things. A few months after she graduated from college, she went with her family to Russia. . ."

St Petersburg, 1994 

She stood apart from the crowd, a slight, solitary figure who didn't belong here and knew it. The young woman nervously rubbed her thumb over the rim of her delicate crystal wine glass, trying to remind herself to sip, rather than gulp. No sense in getting drunk, after all. She didn't need alcohol to help her make a fool out of herself. . .she could do that just fine on her own. Oh, how she hated these things!

It was for that reason that every few moments, she would take another step back into the shadows. That was where she felt the most comfortable. As the least attractive of Jonah Bramwell's four daughters, she found no judgment in the shadows. No one to judge her, and find her lacking because she didn't have the heart-stopping beauty of her three sisters, or the rugged good looks of her twin brother.

Her name was Rowanne Bramwell, the sparrow in a family of peacocks. Her hair was brown, mistaken for black only when wet. Her youngest sister Corliss had raven hair, and while her features weren't perfect, they were at least interesting. Her elder sister Diana was the breath-taking one, with her shoulder-length caramel colored hair and perfect features. And Lydia, second youngest daughter, simply didn't give a damn.

Rowanne wished she could do that. Surrounded by bright lights, beautiful people, and glittering treasures, she wanted to remain forever in the shadows. She could not drift along the halls, admiring treasures, not without making a spectacle of herself. She had not the self-confidence of her sisters or the bold courage of her twin brother. She'd rather be in the hotel, reading. Books were her best friends. She found no judgments in books.

It was something she learned at an early age. Books never found her amusing, as her father did, or disappointing, as her mother did. Through much of her life, if she didn't find comfort in books, she found it in her siblings. Unfortunately, her sisters were occupied. And Ethan didn't come to Russia. She missed her brother. If Ethan was here, she wouldn't be the only one in the shadows. He hated these things.

When they were forced to attend, the siblings would lurk in the shadows and talk. Ethan, who was attending graduate school in Scotland, was full of stories about Edinburgh and the 'lassies.' Sometimes, he would make his twin laugh with his attempts at a Scottish accent. His roommate was from the Highlands, and on weekends, Robbie would take Ethan with him to his home. That provided him with even more stories.

She had her own stories to tell. There were times when being a wallflower worked in her favor. Sometimes, she saw things that other people missed. Even things she wished she could have missed as well. People hurting others. People making fools of themselves. She observed and listened. Sometimes hearing things she didn't want to hear, knowing things she didn't want to know.

But she listened nonetheless, because as her sister Diana was fond of saying, there was no knowledge that wasn't power. She supposed if it was within her personality and desire, she could blackmail a few people with what she heard over the years. There were advantages to being a wallflower. Such people were ignored, as if they didn't even exist. Like servants. Like a butler. Like Callum, their butler when she was a child.

A waiter passed her as she finished her wine, and she softly called, "One moment, if you please?" The young man stopped and gave her a disarming smile. She smiled back, a half-smile designed to appease anyone who questioned if she was enjoying herself. She replaced the wine glass delicately on his tray, and said, "Another glass is not necessary, thank you." He smiled at her again, a dazzling smile, then went on his way.

With her hands free, she backpedaled until she could lean against a cool marble pillar. Such beauty here. Not just in this hall, but in this country. Her fingers went to the coral necklace she wore, a birthday gift from Diana when her sister went scuba diving in Hawaii. She smiled faintly as a familiar voice said, "You know, you'll never meet a handsome young Count if you melt into the darkness, sister mine."

"That's your wish, little sister, not mine," came the light reply. Lydia just smiled, her brown eyes dancing with mischief as she looped her arm around Rowanne's waist, and the elder sister continued, "And I was thinking about Callum. Funny, I know, since I haven't thought of him in years, but. . .I'm strange, you should know that by now. We've heard it enough times."

Her little sister hugged her, replying, "You are not strange, Rowanne Justine. I think Callum's favorite word for you was 'fey.' You aren't strange, and you aren't the ugly duckling. And one day, sister mine, you'll find a devastatingly handsome husband who thinks you're the center of the universe. Well, he better think that, even if he isn't devastatingly handsome!"

"Now, would this be before or after you met your handsome Russian count?" the elder girl asked with a laugh. That laugh ended on a squeak as Lydia poked her sides. Rowanne said, "You might want to talk to Mother about my ugly duckling status. I'm wearing this monstrosity tonight because of her. She went into my room and took out all the dresses except this one." She gestured to the mint green cocktail dress.

Lydia rolled her eyes, all too aware of their mother's manipulative nature, and said, "And let me guess. She took those dresses. . .or had them taken rather. . .back to her own room, and locked the door." The elder sister nodded. Oh yes. The girls knew their mother too well. Lydia shook her head, muttering, "You realize, of course, she did that because she knew you would just tell her 'no' if she told you to wear something else."

"Too bad no one told her that someone in this get-up would attract attention away from you three," Rowanne murmured. They came to a stop in front of one of the many portraits. Lydia just looked at her helplessly, caught between her older sister and her mother, as always. Rowanne took pity on her and said, "Go on. I'm fine. Go find your handsome Russian count, and live happily ever after."

"As if! Love you," Lydia said, kissing Rowanne's cheek. She sashayed off, and Rowanne shook her head. _Oh yes, the Bramwell sisters. . .isn't it lovely how devoted they are to each other? Even the ugly duckling of the family is fiercely protected by the other three_. Yes, protected, from all but the loneliness. She and her roommate sometimes talked about that, wondering if a one-night stand would ease the ache inside.

"How odd. . .I believed I was the only one who preferred the shadows!" someone said. Rowanne jumped. After regaining her composure, she turned in the direction of the voice. At first, all she could see were a pair of green eyes. Her new companion moved a little into the light, and now she saw that his hair was dark blond. He smiled mockingly and said, his English accent now much clearer, "One of the Bramwell beauties, I see."

Was he making fun of her? Her spine stiffened. She wasn't beautiful like her sisters, but that didn't mean she'd accept people mocking her! In a cool voice she learned from Diana, she replied, "My last name is Bramwell, yes. And you are?" His smile didn't waver. If anything, he looked intrigued and reached out to touch her cheek. It felt like an electrical bolt just shot through her, and she gasped a little at the contact.

"You have lovely skin. Unmarked. You may call me 'Alec,' Miss Bramwell," he replied. Alec, was it? She wondered if he worked for their mysterious host, 'Janus.' During the last few years, her parents donated several thousands of dollars to the Janus Group. It was why they were here tonight. A grand event, to thank his contributors. At least, that was why her parents were here. She was just along for the ride.

She would worry about that later. For now, she told him, "My name is Rowanne." He arched a brow, but she refused to answer anything but a direct question. She might not have been the prettiest of the Bramwell sisters. . .or the most charming of the five children. But she did have some sense, and she did have her pride.

"Rowanne? Are your parents Druids?" Alec asked, that mocking smile firmly in place. Rowanne controlled her desire to slap him. . .but just barely. While she possessed neither beauty nor brilliance, she did have self-control. Rowanne merely stared at him as she shook her head, and Alec continued, "No? Well, are we to play '_Twenty Questions_,' then? You must admit, my dear, it's an unusual name. Particularly for an American."

"Perhaps. But as ninety-five percent of the guests are Americans, it's far more unusual to find a Briton here," she answered. Anger flashed in his eyes, and Rowanne added, "And we Americans have a wide variety of names. My mother liked 'Rowena,' but my father pointed out that I was likely to end up with the nickname of 'Weenie.' So 'Rowena' became 'Rowanne.' My older sister is the Druid of the family."

"Ahh. When you say that your sister is the Druid of the family, I take it you mean that she's very fond of trees?" Alec asked. Rowanne, while the most socially inept of the sisters, wasn't stupid. She was quite certain that 'Alec' wasn't this man's real first name. However, it would have been quite rude to call him a liar, particularly to his face. To say nothing of stupid. . .this man could be dangerous.

Instead, she replied, "No. . .I mean, she's a member of the Druid order." He shifted slightly, moving further into the light. That allowed her to see him more clearly, and Rowanne drew back. She was uncomfortable with men. . .even more so with handsome men. This man was _sexy_. Then she saw the scarring on one side of his face. Rowanne gently touched the scars, breathing, "My God, what happened?"

He froze, his green eyes tracking her movement. Alec didn't answer her question, and instead asked, "You don't seem repulsed?" She glared at him, actually offended by the question. Of course not! Then again, maybe he was used to twits who fainted at the least little thing. She didn't answer his question. Two could play at that game. Some of her previous composure returned.

At last, she replied, "As if! So your face is scarred. Big effing deal. You think it lessens your looks? Trust me, it does anything but. You're far better looking than the pretty boys I knew in high school and college." Rowanne paused, trying to decide how far she could go, then added with a casual shrug, now sounding like the teenager she used to be, "Besides, I'm no beauty queen. . .like I'm gonna give you a hard time about your appearance? Puh-leaze!"

Alec stared at her, then smiled slowly. That smile did funny things to Rowanne. Her heart skipped a beat, she could have sworn the temperature in the ballroom went up, and it was becoming _very_ hard to breathe. Alec asked softly, "Does that mean, Rowanne Bramwell, that you find me attractive?" _You have got to be kidding me._

She rasped out, "Yes." In fact, she was surprised that he wasn't beating the women off with the proverbial stick! His smile grew wider, and Rowanne's knees turned to water. Alec took first one step forward, then another. He was getting too close, and Rowanne backed up. Right into another marble pillar. Nowhere to go. And he knew it.

Rowanne stared at her companion in the shadows, feeling the cool marble of the columns through the sheer fabric of her sleeves. Her breath caught in her throat, and she swallowed hard, trying to. . .do something. She wasn't entirely sure what she was trying to do. Maintain control over what was happening to her? There was a laugh and a half. She never felt so out of control in her life.

Alec was in control here. She could see it in the ease of his body, the casual grace of a man who held all the cards and knew it. She could see it in his green eyes. Were they green? Yes, she thought so. She was reminded, for some odd reason of a song popular when her sister was a teenager. '_Eye of the Tiger_.' That was what she saw in Alec. The eyes of a tiger. Tiger eyes.

Nowhere to go. No way to stop him, and she didn't want to. Not with the way he was looking at her. A predator observing his prey, and god, how it excited her. Alec slipped his hand around the back of her neck, then pressed his mouth to hers. Those sensations that Rowanne felt earlier exploded with a vengeance, and she moaned, her legs threatening to give way. She slumped forward, and felt his arm go around her waist.

Rowanne was pulled against his body, and her pulse jumped once more. Clothing separated flesh, but that was irrelevant. Alec's tuxedo was close-fitting, and Rowanne could feel his muscles tensing as he pulled her even more tightly against his body. Rowanne copied his movements, though her muscles felt sluggish as she ran her fingers through his short blond hair.

Alec knew what he was doing. Oh, did he know what he was doing! Rowanne's blood was turning to liquid fire in her veins, and her mind seemed to have shut down. She was inexperienced. . .hell, this was her first kiss. . .but Rowanne was kissing him back for all she was worth. He broke the kiss almost abruptly, and rasped out, "This is a surprise. I must admit, you are not the sort of woman who usually catches my eye."

She smiled bitterly and replied, "Oh, that surprises me not at all. I. . ." She was silenced when Alec kissed her again. Rowanne closed her eyes, allowing the sensations to sweep over her. She just let her mind shut down, and her body take over. For the first time since her hormones awakened, that ache was gone. No one ever kissed her like this before. Hell, no one ever kissed her before. And she didn't want this kiss to end.

However, Someone upstairs _wasn't_ listening. A low, deadly voice growled out, "So help me, if you're taking liberties with my sister. . ." Rowanne was so deep into the kiss, it took her a few moments to recognize the voice. When she did, her body stiffened, and Alec broke the kiss. Rowanne took several deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart. She looked into her older sister's eyes, glaring daggers at Diana.

Diana had the courtesy to look sheepish, but she said, "Rowanne is my little sister. It's my job to protect her. My name is Diana Bramwell. And you are?" Alec released Rowanne, and she stumbled a little. Diana slipped her hand around Rowanne's forearm, righting her. Alec merely stared at the oldest Bramwell child, and Rowanne suspected he would have answered that with 'very annoyed,' if he wanted to be honest.

However, he replied, "You may call me 'Alec.' My last name is not important." Diana's reaction to that was to tighten her hand around Rowanne's forearm, slowly drawing the younger girl toward her. Rowanne knew her sister. Knew that Diana's instincts were screaming at her right now. She could see the signs in Diana's expression. Alec looked at Rowanne, his expression almost regretful.

What did he regret? Though she and Ethan were very close, there were so many things Rowanne didn't know about men. There were, after all, things that a man would never discuss with his sister. And this man. . .whom she just met. . .she was still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that he kissed her. Why? Out of all the women here tonight, why did he choose a shy, awkward twenty-two year old who wasn't even pretty?

Why not Lydia? Lydia was gorgeous, with her glossy black hair and deep brown eyes. She had a flawless complexion. . .even when they were teenagers, Lydia never had trouble with acne. And her smile. . .everyone in the family remarked about what a gorgeous smile Lydia had. All right, she was two years younger than Rowanne, and might be too young for Alec. But there was still the matter of Diana. She was the most beautiful of the sisters. Especially when she was angry, like she was right now.

"Your last name is unimportant? Not to the woman whose little sister you were just kissing. Don't play games with me! My brother and sisters mean everything to me, and I will not tolerate someone like you playing with my sister's heart," Diana warned, her eyes flashing with fury. Alec's green eyes sparked at that 'someone like you.' Even someone with Rowanne's embryonic sensitivity could tell those words hit an unexpected target. Diana said, "RJ, honey, I was worried when I couldn't find you."

Rowanne cringed at the hated family nickname, and said mildly, "I don't know why. I always find a quiet, secluded corner when I get dragged to one of these mind-numbing events. I was just fortunate enough to find company this time." She indicated Alec with a nod of her head, and added, "Really, there's nothing to worry about. Worry about Lydia, who is intent on finding a handsome young Russian count to ensnare."

Alec coughed, a sound that could have easily been a laugh. Rowanne met his eyes, trying not to smile. Diana glared at him again, and Rowanne continued, hoping to distract her sister, "Really. I'm fine." Not really. She was still regaining her balance after being kissed nearly into oblivion. But she was twenty-two, hardly a child. Diana looked away from Alec, her eyes searching Rowanne's expression for several moments.

Then she smiled and said almost sadly, "Of course you are. I've spent so much time protecting you that I forget sometimes. . .can you forgive me?" In some ways, that annoyed Rowanne even more. But she offered her sister a tired smile, because as she exhaled slowly, her energy left her, taking with it her burgeoning confidence. Her sister probably did her a favor. What was she thinking, kissing a handsome man like that?

Alec took her hand, drawing her attention back to him. Once again, as skin came into contact with skin, Rowanne's pulse sped up. Even when he wasn't kissing her, he was throwing her off balance. The man said quietly, "I would like to see you before you leave St Petersburg." Rowanne just smiled wearily. Alec kissed her hand and vanished into the shadows. Where she found him, or did he find her? She wasn't sure, nor was she sure that it mattered. After all, it wasn't like she would ever see him again.

She rubbed at her forehead, and began walking back in the direction her sister appeared. Diana walked at her side. Every few moments, Rowanne would sense her sister looking at her with concern. Whatever. Right now, all she wanted to do was go back to her hotel room and sleep for the next century. She didn't have the energy to deal with her mother or her father, she didn't even have the energy to deal with Corliss.

She walked as quickly as she could, wanting to go away. Someplace safe, where she could hibernate, or maybe even cry. She wanted to cry, she realized with a shock. She wanted to cry. Alec turned her world upside down with that kiss, and now. . .now, she wasn't sure exactly whom she was. Silly. . .she always told herself that she didn't need a man to make her feel complete. Then why did she feel so bereft? So lost?

Because, she decided with more than a touch of bitterness, the universe decided to play a nasty trick on her, and open her eyes to the truth. That she did ache for the touch of a man, no matter how much she wanted to deny it. Maybe that was why this ugly little trick was played on her, because she spent so much time denying what was true. She was just thirteen when her body awoke. . .just thirteen when she had her first erotic dream.

And for the last nine years, the only thing that prevented her from becoming just another statistic in the teen pregnancy column was her own unattractiveness. She knew that. And as tempted as she was to buy love with her body, she could never bring herself to do it. Perhaps she was too afraid of being ridiculed or rejected. In one night, Alec turned that all upside down. Now she had to figure out what to do now.

In her turmoil, she totally forgot about her older sister. . .as well as most of her anger and frustration with Diana. It was wrong, wrong and irrational to be angry with Diana. Her older sister was just that. . .her older sister. In her eyes, Rowanne was still a child, and her first instinct was to protect her. . . even from herself. And maybe she was right, to protect Rowanne from herself before she believed in the kisses.

"Rowanne. . .Rowanne, wait!" Diana exclaimed. Rowanne gave her sister a tired look, and Diana stopped, as if Rowanne slapped her. The older sister put her hands on Rowanne's shoulders gingerly, saying, "I'm sorry, sweetheart. It just. . .I wasn't expecting to see that. My little sister kissing a man. I got scared." Rowanne favored her with a disbelieving expression, and Diana took her arm, leading her to a quiet room.

"That sounds totally stupid, Diana. I mean, come on. . .I know that it isn't the first time you've caught one of your kid sisters kissing a man," Rowanne answered tiredly. It was a known fact in the Bramwell family. When Rowanne became tired, her patience became sorely limited. Tonight, her patience was evaporating even more quickly than usual. Diana took her hands, holding them tightly between her own.

"But that's Lydia. And Lydia has never been considered shy, in any way, shape or form," Diana reminded. Well, Rowanne certainly couldn't argue with that. Diana continued, "I know in my mind that you're a grown woman now. . .but in my heart, you're still the six year old girl whose knees I bandaged. And you always will be. I got scared when I saw you with him."

So she kept saying, but why? Diana sighed deeply, saying, "You're my little sister, RJ, but in some ways, you're my rock. You're the most stable member of the family. You aren't high strung like Mother. You listen, unlike Father. When I saw you kissing that man, I also saw the look on your face. It was like seeing a stranger wearing my sister's face. And that. . .rattled me."

That made two of them. Rowanne could feel the last of her annoyance melting away, leaving only exhaustion and that lost feeling. She whispered, voicing the thought that circled in her mind ever since the first time Alec's lips touched hers, "Why did he kiss me? Diana? I don't understand it. I just met him tonight, and he kissed me. He. . .he kissed me after I told him that I didn't find his scars repulsive."

"I don't think one thing had anything to do with the other, sweetheart," Diana replied, draping her arm around Rowanne's shoulders, "I think he kissed you for one reason, and one reason only. . . because he could." She smiled almost sadly, caressing a lock of dark hair back from Rowanne's forehead, and added, "Who could blame him? You're a hundred times more interesting than most of the bimbos here tonight."

Rowanne smiled without any real humor. She said softly, "He did tell me that I wasn't his usual type. His usual type. I can believe that. I've seen men like him before, Diana. He. . .ah. . .god. He's sexier than Simon LeBon and John Taylor put together. Sexier than Simon LeBon, John Taylor, and Kiefer Sutherland put together, for that matter. I mean, I heard the term 'exuding sex appeal,' but never believed it now."

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, then added, "And guys like that, Diana, they don't look at someone like me. You, or Lydia, in a hot New York minute. Even Corliss, even though she's only thirteen. She's just a kid, and she's already got the boys clamoring to go out with them. That's you, that's Lydia, that's Corliss. But not someone like me. I'm not pretty, or brilliant, or charming. Men like that don't kiss girls like me!"

There was a moment of confusion in her older sister's eyes, followed by a quick flash of anger. But Diana cupped her face in her hands, saying in a low, fierce voice, "I don't want to ever hear you talk that way about yourself, Rowanne Justine! Ever! You are just as good as any of us. Do you mean to tell me that for all this time, you've believed that you're the ugly duckling of the family?"

Rowanne favored her sister with her best, '_well, duh'_ look. Diana looked away, muttering, "I don't believe this. Okay. I'm smart enough to realize I can't convince you overnight that you're just as good as the rest of us. But starting tonight, I'm gonna make sure I never hear that come out of your mouth again. Starting right now. We're going home. You need to get some sleep."

With that, she pulled Rowanne to her feet. In a low voice, the younger sister asked, "Diana? Do one thing for me?" Her sister looked at her, and Rowanne requested, "Never call me RJ again? I _hate_ that name." She wasn't especially pretty, but the nickname 'RJ' didn't suit her, either.

Diana smiled unexpectedly and replied, "Deal, baby sister. C'mon. Let's get you back to the hotel. If the ever-mysterious Janus decides to make an appearance, oh well. Mother and Father contributed to his cause, whatever that happens to be. It has nothing to do with us." Rowanne leaned heavily against her older sister. One battle was won. . . there were more to fight. After she got some sleep.

Puerto Rico, 2004

It was at this point that Alec Trevelyan took over the narrative. He said quietly, "I never expected to find someone else in the shadows that night. I preferred to stay hidden, and watch. Rowanne once told me about the Bramwell family butler when she was a child. Callum, he was called. And like Rowanne, he knew that people often said things without thinking while in the presence of servants. As if servants had no ears.

"It was something Rowanne noticed herself. She asked him once if he ever thought about using that knowledge for his own purposes. Callum was a good man, totally unlike me, and told her that he could never use that information. It was part of what made him a good butler, you know. To use such information for personal gain would have been the height of unprofessionalism. And he loved the children too much."

Matthew Tate listened. In all the years he worked for the Trevelyans, he never heard this story. He had a lot of respect for both of them, but he really didn't know them that well. Aside from the two girls, whom Mr Trevelyan called his 'princesses.' Like the other ex-Marines who formed the security detail for the Trevelyan family itself, Matthew knew the parents well enough to take care of them.

Sassy said now, putting her hands on her father's face, "But Daddy, you're good! Mommy, Bree, and me wouldn't love you if you weren't!" Mr Trevelyan smiled down at his baby girl, his green eyes warming. He put his hands over hers, drawing a giggle, and Matthew bit back a grin. Little Miss Sassy tended to have that effect on people, he knew. But her most powerful magic was saved for her father.

"What do you mean, little one?" the head of MI-6 asked. Sassy swiveled around and Mr Trevelyan barely managed to protect himself before the little girl accidentally rendered him incapable of fathering more children. Sassy stared at the woman hard, frowning thoughtfully. Matthew now had to bite his lip, to keep from laughing. She looked just like her mother when she did that.

"I am not little. . .I'm eight years old!" Sassy protested indignantly, and it was lucky that she was looking away from her father, because the head of the Janus organization was now grinning broadly. The little girl continued a bit huffily, "And my daddy's good. He gives me piggy-back rides and pushes me on the swing and lets me crawl into bed with him and Mommy when I've had a bad dream. HE's bad!"

Sassy glared at the black-haired agent, who was introduced as 'James Bond.' The same agent who found himself under attack by a little girl. God, but that was funny to watch! Matthew was fairly sure that it wasn't Bond who attacked Trevelyan, but Sassy didn't care about that. She saw him pointing a gun at her mother, and heard the yelling. He wanted to hurt her mother. . .and he hurt her father. He was bad. It was just that easy.

"Bree, honey. . .it's getting late. Could you take Sassy back to bed for me? Tomorrow's a school day," Mrs. Trevelyan said quietly. Matthew looked at her quickly. School day? It wasn't a school day. . .it was Easter vacation! He knew Mrs. Trevelyan didn't get a lot of sleep lately, but. . . From Sabrina's expression, Matthew could tell that the oldest Trevelyan daughter was coming to the exact same conclusion as he did.

"No, it isn't, Rowanne. It's the beginning of Easter vacation, and Aunt Corliss is coming. Remember?" Bree asked. Mrs. Trevelyan blinked in shock, then nodded with a sigh. By this time, it no longer surprised Matthew to hear Bree call Corliss and Lydia 'Aunt,' even as she called Mrs. Trevelyan by her first name. It was jarring at first, since Corliss was only six years older than Bree.

"Besides. You need our help taking care of Daddy, so the bad man doesn't hurt him again," Sassy added. Matthew almost laughed then. Anastasia Alexandra Trevelyan took instructions from her parents very seriously. Especially when her father told her to look after her mother. . .or vice versa. In a way, since she spent the first four years of her life seeing her father unconscious, Sassy was even more protective of him.

"He is not bad. . .he just did not understand what was happening, Sassy. And I do apologize for calling you 'little,' but you are about the same age as my granddaughter. She is very much like you. . .and like you, she tries to take care of her mum and dad. Do you have a lot of bad dreams?" M asked. Matthew frowned thoughtfully. He spent the last several years, employed by two former spies. She was up to something.

He was right. Sassy replied, "Sometimes. Sometimes, I try to crawl into bed with Bree, but I can't get into her room. 'Specially if she's mad at Mommy and Daddy. So I go downstairs, and get into bed with Mommy and Daddy. But Daddy, he has a lot of bad dreams. Even when Mommy and me are there to take care of him. Sometimes, he wakes up, screaming and crying. That scares me. I don't like it when Daddy cries. It's scary."

As she spoke, she settled more comfortably against her father's chest. Mr Trevelyan stroked the child's hair lightly, his green eyes filled with grief and guilt. He whispered something to her, and she smiled up at him. A blinding, trusting smile that would go straight to the heart and gut of any man, of any father. Or maybe any responsible man, because Matthew wasn't a father.

"I don't think you'll win this one, darling," Mr Trevelyan said ruefully, looking up to meet the eyes of his wife, "our daughter seems to have inherited your stubborn streak." Mrs. Trevelyan's eyebrows arched and she mouthed, '_my stubborn streak_?' The boss added with a smile that could have been described as angelic on anyone else and replied, "I'm certainly not stubborn!"

"No, you're mulish," Lady Boss fired back with a wicked grin. Matthew always enjoyed the banter between them in such moments. They were a much needed dose of normalcy, on a night when nothing. . .and he did mean nothing. . .was normal. Of course, there were the usual side effects. . .the jolt in his groin at the look that passed between the husband and wife. Just where did he find someone who would make him feel that way?

"As entertaining as you two always are, we should probably get back on topic, before Jimbo there blows a gasket," Jack Wade said. Lady Boss actually pouted, but the grin she gave her husband told everyone paying attention that the discussion wasn't over. What they didn't realize, and the bodyguards did, was that the conversation would take place in the bedroom. And it wouldn't be verbal.

"Oh, if we must, we must. What were we discussing? Oh yes, the night Alec and I met. I should explain here. . .it sounds like my mother hated me, but that wasn't the case. Even then, I knew that. I knew she loved me. But she didn't seem to understand that I wasn't my sisters. More to the point, she didn't understand that she couldn't push me into a nice, neat little role. . .a nice, tidybox. . .and I would be happy like that," Lady Boss explained.

The woman, the one they called 'M,' shook her head almost immediately and said rather disapprovingly, "A good mother accepts her children as they are, without trying to turn them into something they are not. As annoying as I find the occasional sarcasm of my children, that is part of whom they are."

Lady Boss just smiled sadly and replied, "But my mother didn't see it that way. In her view, she was trying to mold me into someone who would attract a good husband. So, she believed she was acting with my best interests at heart. I try to remember that. . .but in truth, it's difficult. Even now. It's why I haven't spoken with my mother since Diana was murdered. Even now, she tries to run my life."

"Unfortunately, it was that very attitude which made it so very easy for me, when Rowanne and I first met," Mr Trevelyan said. He sighed, closing his eyes briefly. When he opened, his eyes were blank, as he explained, "I was incapable of love. All I could see, when I looked at Rowanne, was someone I could use. . ."

St Petersburg, 1994. . .same night as ball

"She may be trouble," the woman observed as her employer quietly entered the video room. They would go over the reports and the tapes until it was time to leave for the train. While their ally was setting pawns into motion, they would see how much more they could get from the contributors who came to the ball tonight. Her employer looked at her, an eyebrow arched with amusement.

"Everyone has the potential to be trouble. You and Ourumov included. However, it is just as likely that she will be useful. She is a rather unhappy young lady, making her useful to us. It merely requires discovering the source of her unhappiness. . .and providing a way out," the man replied quietly. The woman merely smiled, and the man asked, sounding cross, "You think I am infatuated with a slip of a girl?"

"Not at all," Xenia Onatopp answered as her employer settled himself in his chair to look over the reports, "I think the child is infatuated with you, or could easily be. I simply do not see what use she might have. We have the money of her parents. What else can she provide us? What can she do for us, that her parents cannot?" Alec Trevelyan, also known as Janus, and once known as 006, sighed and turned to face her.

"If nothing else, my dear Xenia, we can use her as a shield. Her parents, no doubt, would be quite put out if they learned how we were using their money. Perhaps she isn't the favored daughter, but she is still their child, and they are still willing to move heaven, hell, and earth, to get her back," Alec replied at last. Xenia studied his face for several moments. He had no idea what she was looking for.

Doubt, about what they were doing? Not likely. He committed himself to this path years ago, and he would not turn back now. More to the point, he had no desire to turn back now. Xenia said at last, "I am not Ourumov. What do you see in this girl, Janus? This is not about conquest. She is not an ugly child, but she believes herself unattractive. What do you see when you look at her?"

Alec took a sip of the wine that was waiting for him when he returned from his sojourn through the ball and answered, "Innocence. I see innocence when I look at her. Such innocence as hers can be an amazing weapon, Xenia. Once her trust is won. . .do you not see the possibilities?" Oh, he could not use her to steal the Goldeneye.

He needed Xenia and Ourumov for that. But he was preparing to set events into motion. When wheels began turning, MI-6 would send James Bond. . .someone Alec knew well. While innocent, shy Rowanne Bramwell was hardly his type, that mattered little. She was not beautiful, but she was vulnerable. Something Bond never could resist. And there was a time when Alec found such vulnerability just as difficult to resist.

"And that is the only reason? She has not touched your heart in some unfathomable way?" Xenia asked, disbelief touching her voice. Alec shook his head, more than a little disgusted at the suggestion. He didn't have a heart. Nor did he have a conscience, not any more. He was Janus now, and all he had, all he wanted, was revenge. Revenge for betrayal. . .revenge for nearly thirty years of living a lie.

He replied, "My heart died with my parents, Xenia. Died, and was buried with them, thanks to the English. I am all that's left, and I will make sure England **never **forgets the Liensk Cossacks. That is, of course, assuming there is anything left of England after we finish with it." She knew his past. Knew, and didn't care. Did Ourumov know? Perhaps, but Alec didn't care.

In the years since losing his family, Alec found it difficult to let anyone in. Very few breached his protective barriers. . .most important was James Bond. As ever, rage exploded in his soul when he thought about his former friend, and Alec threw his wine glass across the room. It shattered into a thousand pieces as it struck the opposite wall.

Xenia, knowing his moods very well indeed, left without another word. Alec rubbed his hand over his eyes, looking at the image of Rowanne and Diana Bramwell. The two sisters were deep in conversation, Diana's hands wrapped around her little sister's. Her face was very intense as she talked to her sister. An old, familiar feeling rose in Alec's chest, and he struggled to push it back down. He had no time for this.

Sometimes, when Alec was very tired and his protective shields slipped, he thought about the older brother who never had a chance to live. He was a small boy, hardly more than a toddler, when his father took his own life as well as the life of Alec's mother. He honestly didn't remember either of them. And his brother died nearly fifteen years before Alec's own birth. What would it have been like, if his brother survived?

Would he have been so protective of Alec, as Diana Bramwell was of her younger sister? He knew all about the Bramwells. He made it his business to know about the families of his contributors. You just never knew when such information would be useful. There were the parents, Jonah Bramwell and his wife Christine. Both came from old money, just the sort of people he came to loathe as he grew up. _Very_ old money.

And then there were the children. Diana was twenty-eight, the oldest child. She was a consultant, which, Alec learned, was just another term for someone who didn't really work. She would take vacations to Hawaii and California, taking younger siblings with her if they were available. Unlike her parents, she was very cautious about who received her money. Without fail, she researched the charities to which she donated.

Rowanne, the young woman whom he kissed tonight, was the next oldest. Twenty-two years old, but she could pass for much younger. Perhaps one reason she was so inexperienced with members of the opposite sex. . .she looked fifteen. That, and she made no attempt to make the most of her looks. While she lacked the heart-stopping beauty of both her older and younger sisters, she was hardly unattractive.

She had a Bachelor of Arts in Art History, and only came with her parents on this trip to Russia because she had nothing else planned. A recent graduate, she seemed to be drifting through life at the moment. She had no real need of money, as she inherited a sizable amount of money from her grandmother, and on her twenty-fifth birthday, she would gain access to her trust fund.

She had a twin brother, Ethan. He was currently attending graduate school in Scotland, Alec learned, and he was studying engineering. As of the previous week, he had no steady girlfriend, but rather, 'played the field.' Bond would find the boy a younger version of himself, no doubt. The only Bramwell son didn't really interest Alec, and so he barely paid attention to Ethan.

Lydia was the third daughter, the most exotic looking of the five children. She was twenty, currently studying pre-law at Harvard. She was very smart, very beautiful, and the young men on campus were utterly terrified of her. Just the sort of woman that James always found intoxicating. She was most choosy about her lovers, and interestingly enough, none of her choices involved what her parents thought proper.

In truth, Alec thought her intriguing. . .but a little too young for his tastes. Besides, she was committed to her studies. Corliss, the baby of the family at thirteen, only rated a single page. Like her older siblings, she was very bright, doing very well in school, and very popular. Alec was many things, committed more sins than could be accounted for, but one thing he was not, and never would be, was a pedophile.

No. No, Rowanne would be the most useful. Even so, Xenia's questions echoed in his mind. He kissed that girl tonight because he could. That was the only reason. He kissed her because he could. It was different from kissing one of James Bond's women. They shared nearly everything. Except what really mattered.

James would never give Rowanne Bramwell a second glance. Alec wouldn't have, but for one thing. She haunted the shadows, as he did. With his wealth, and his power within the Russian mafia, he could have any woman he wanted. And he took them, when he wanted them. Like his competitors, he had courtesans of all nationalities to sate his more base carnal needs.

Alec shifted uncomfortably in his chair, assorted aches and pains reminding him that he was thirty-five years old, not twenty-five. The scars on his face tingled from where Rowanne Bramwell touched him. No one touched his scars before, besides him. No one was permitted to touch them. For the first time, he wondered what it would be like, a woman kissing his scars. Alec trembled briefly, then shook his head. He couldn't think such things. He was Janus now.

There was no room in Janus for any tenderness. It was as he told Xenia. His heart was dead and buried with his family. There were times, especially immediately after Arkangelsk, when he thought he heard his mother's voice telling him it didn't have to be this way. But he didn't even remember what his mother's voice sounded like. Besides, why wouldn't she want her death, or the death of her son, avenged?

It was his father who pulled the trigger, but it was the bloody English who put the gun in his hand. It was the English who deceived him for nearly twenty-five years. He was twenty-seven years old when he saw that file. Twenty-seven years old when his life dissolved into a lie, and at the same time, everything made sense. Not that the truth kept him from falling to his knees, half-sick with grief and guilt and fury.

It was early in the morning. Perhaps one or two, he couldn't remember. Alec did remember how exhausted he was. It was about six months before Arkangelsk, and he found the file in a manila envelope resting against his door when he returned from a mission, then a debriefing. Curious, he took it inside, wanting only to fix himself something to eat and get some sleep.

Neither happened. Alec read the report first. By the time he finished, he was on his knees, trembling in shock. He doubled over, barely making it to a bin before retching. At least he hadn't eaten anything in several hours. Once he could stop shaking, Alec forced himself to read the report a second time. The shock began to give way to grief, suppressed for all these years, followed by rage and just as potent, guilt.

Angry. So terribly angry. Beyond angry, it burned him inside out. But he welcomed it. He welcomed the corrosive acid eating away at his soul. This explained so much. So very much. The British psychiatrists who examined the little boy believed he witnessed the murder-suicide, as it was called now. That didn't surprise Alec after all, who believed he couldn't be surprised any more than he already was.

_And just who came up with the bright idea_, he wondered, not for the first time, _of turning the child into an agent for the government that betrayed his parents, and so many others_? Whose twisted sense of humor led them to recruit him when he finished with University? He closed his eyes, seeing twenty year old Alec Trevelyan in his mind's eye. Young, wary, but for all that, wanting to save the world. Young, idealistic, and stupid.

Oh yes. When he was twenty, he wanted to save the world. He believed he could. He was smart, he cared about people, and that was all that you needed, wasn't it? Stupid boy. He finished with University two years early. His professors described him as brilliant, though distant. The first person who broke through his protective shields was James Bond, whom he met on his first day in MI-6. Six years older, also an orphan, Bond took young Alec Trevelyan under his wing, treating him as a younger brother.

And from that, a fierce friendship developed, marked by wise cracks and a ferocious protectiveness of each other. And his friendship with James Bond opened Alec's soul to other friendships. . . especially that of 002, William Pryce-Meecham, who became his mentor. But James was special. Even as they saved the world, they bantered like brothers. Saving the world, or saving each other. Alec's fingers stilled. How many did he save James' life? How many times did James save his?

NO. He would not think about this. It made no difference how many times James Bond saved Alec's life. Alec Trevelyan was dead, and Janus took his place. Alec Trevelyan was dead, Alec Trevelyan had to die, because Alec Trevelyan was the product of the bloody English bastards who cost him his family. James would never understand.

And William Pryce-Meecham. . .no. No, he couldn't think about him, either. Sometimes, he allowed himself to dream about what might have been, if he offered that chance to James. It was impossible, of course. He knew that. But that didn't stop him from considering the possibilities. Though Ourumov was his partner, Alec didn't trust him. There were times when images would flash through his mind, and while Alec didn't know where they came from, they warned him not to trust the other man.

He trusted no one. He didn't trust Ourumov. . .he didn't even trust Xenia fully. And again, he looked at the two sisters, sitting quietly in a room off the main ballroom, hands clasped. His eyes lingered on Rowanne Bramwell. Quiet, shy Rowanne who seemed to have a backbone of steel, when she remembered how to use it.

He remembered how her eyes flashed at him with quiet rage when he referred to her glibly as one of the Bramwell beauties. She stood up to him. How many times did she do that, particularly with a man she didn't know? And why was it that some of her confidence returned when she saw his scars? She pulled away when she saw his face, but the retreat stopped when his scars became visible as well.

That alone made her intriguing to him. In Alec's experience, the opposite was usually true. He saw revulsion in the eyes of many women when they saw the scars on his face. And for some reason he didn't entirely comprehend, it enraged him that she wasn't repulsed. It enraged him, because he didn't understand it. It enraged him because his scars were a source of control for him, and she took that control away from him.

He wanted to hate her for being innocent, when his own innocence was shattered so ruthlessly. He wanted to hate her for touching his scars and not being afraid. He wanted to hate her for having everything he ever wanted. . .loving and protective siblings, wealthy parents. She appreciated the love and protectiveness, even as she resented her sister's interference when Alec kissed her in the shadows of the ballroom.

He wanted to hate her, because right now, it was so difficult to get her out of his mind. Though inexperienced, her answering kiss was passionate, and Alec's blood thundered in his veins at the way she melted against him. So young. So inexperienced. So very seductive, that power her inexperienced passion gave him. Alec longed to hurt her, longed for her to know the pain of having her entire life revealed as a lie.

In his mind's eye, he could see her body writhing under his touch, head thrown back. He wanted to break Rowanne Bramwell, but the image vanished when the means of her destruction crossed his mind. He closed his eyes, willing himself to remember the details in his file. He was Janus, and he had no soul. No heart. He wept for the last time when he read that file. Nothing was left. Only echoes of his lost innocence. He turned off the cameras, one by one. Until only the sisters remained.

In the screen, he could see his own reflection, cast over the image of the two sisters. A shadowy figure clad entirely in black. And then, that last capture was shut down. He no longer was capable of feeling. . .but his body still required sleep and nourishment. Alec Trevelyan left the room, silently turning out the lights as he went. He still had a great deal of work to do, particularly when he got back to the train.


	5. Revelations

Okay, I'm gonna go ahead and post the next two chapters, rather than wait for reviews. Alec is over here, driving me crazy (admittedly, a short trip). So, to give myself a few days of peace, in which I can catch up on my other stories (pointed look at Alec), here are chapters four and five. Just as a warning, this is where it gets **real **AU.

Caught in the Game Again

Chapter Four

Revelations

Puerto Rico, 2004

James Bond couldn't help but smile sardonically. So, they met at this ball which Janus gave for his contributors. And Alec, preferring to remain in the shadows, met someone else he could use. She knew now that he used her. . .what made her think that things were any different now? What made her think that Alec changed?

Bond glanced at his former partner. The years were kind to Trevelyan. His blond hair was longer. . . not long, but longer than James remembered it. He was still slim and athletic. Every few moments, he would glance at his wife and daughters. His expression reflected guilt and shame when he looked at his wife. 007 ignored that, however. He could not be fooled by the love Alec seemed to have for his family, could not afford to be fooled.

And above all, he couldn't rely on the Trevelyan girls' perception of their father, or Wade's remarks about the pair. The girls were Alec's children. Of course he fooled them. The little girl touched her father's cheeks, drawing a faint smile. Alec kissed the palm of her hand, saying softly, "Evil loves innocence. I always heard it, but never understood what it meant. Then I looked into her eyes, and saw myself when I was young and innocent."

"You wanted some of it back," M deduced, and Alec shrugged. M continued, "So, Rowanne remained with you when her family returned to the United States, and then you took her with you to Cuba once you finished your business in Russia. Why? Was she still required for whatever you were doing?" Alec shook his head, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. In spite of himself, James felt an old concern stirring in his soul.

"I. . .I kissed Natalya Simonova, because she belonged to James. But it felt empty. When I kissed Rowanne. . .some of the ice melted. I hated her for that. And yet, I couldn't let go of her. I wouldn't keep her on the train with me. She wasn't safe there, not with Ourumov around. I set her up in a flat, and spent what time I could with her," Alec replied. His voice sounded rougher now. . .thicker.

"It was about three weeks before Alec was almost killed that he sent Xenia Onatopp to my apartment. She was to arrange my flight from St Petersburg to Havana. Xenia scared me, so I asked no questions. This was. . .oh, I guess about six months after we met. It was something of a whirlwind romance. . .he was handsome, charming, attentive. I didn't pay attention to the passage of time," Rowanne chimed in with a shrug.

And again, it was M who asked, this time of Alec, "When did you fall in love with her?" James looked at her quickly, but there was no emotion in her voice. Of course. M was trying to figure out a way to use this to her advantage. M was always trying to figure out the angles. However, James was surprised that she believed that Alec loved his wife. That he was capable of loving anyone.

"I wish I had an answer for that. Even before Goldeneye was destroyed, I would seek out her company. Especially once we all arrived in Cuba. I would find her in her rooms, usually reading, sometimes writing in her journal. It's not your business what we would do. But know this. I _never_ struck her. Never hurt her in any way. Not even on the day which led to Rowanne remaining with me," Alec replied.

"Eventually, Goldeneye happened," Rowanne said softly, "Alec came to me when he could, like he said. I knew something was happening, but not what. It was taking its toll on him, and he was exhausted. When he was especially tired, he would start rambling about justice and betrayal and revenge. It frightened me. Foolish little girl that I was, I was just starting to realize I was in _way_ over my head."

She took a deep breath, whispering, "Xenia came to my room that day, and there was a burn across her neck and chest, similar to a rope burn. All she would tell me was that Alec needed me, and I had time to pack one bag. I grabbed my journal, and told her I was ready. That was the first time she looked at me with any respect."

"That's impossible," James said flatly. Rowanne looked at him coolly, and the English agent continued, "Xenia Onatopp died when she attacked Natalya Simonova and me in the jungle, after our arrival. I was there." Rowanne merely folded her arms over her chest and stared at him steadily

"She was injured, yes. And she did die that day. But not until later. As I said, Xenia took me to the remaining copter. I believe your ally, Natalya Simonova, took the other one. We were a matter of moments behind her. She picked you up, and then you flew off. You do remember that, don't you, Mr Bond?" Rowanne asked icily. The agent nodded, eyeing her steadily. Oh yes. He remembered everything about that day.

Rowanne continued, "I stalled, just long enough to get a first aid kit and a stretcher. I don't know why I did that. Just. . .I just did. Xenia was impatient, but she agreed to wait long enough to get those. We. . .we saw Alec fall. I remember screaming. And the only thing that kept me together was Xenia's hand on my arm, squeezing. She said something in Russian, and told the pilot to move it. . . we were running out of time.

"She tied a rope to her waist, then grabbed me. Kept muttering under her breath, staring at me as if she never saw me before. I didn't care. All I wanted to do was get to Alec. I could. . .I. . .I didn't want to believe that he was dead, but it was such a long fall. We got there, and he was still breathing. I couldn't believe he was still breathing."

She closed her eyes then, sighing. When her eyes opened, they were haunted. But her voice was steady as she said, "Xenia looked up, then at me. Then she undid the rope from her waist and tied it around me. Then she pulled Alec to me. Once I held him, she tied him to me. She. . .she looked at me, smiled, and said, 'I trust him to you, Juturna.' And then she motioned to the co-pilot to start pulling us up."

Her hand tightened around Alec's as she whispered, "I saw the satellite tower crash and I screamed at Xenia to get out of the way. And she. . .just smiled. It did no good, because we were pulled into the gunship. Alec lost consciousness when Xenia put him in my arms. . .so he didn't see the satellite hit. I did. It was burning. And Xenia was down there, arms outstretched. I was screaming and crying. . .and she was smiling."

Alec put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her head to rest against his shoulder. She leaned against him, tears trickling down her face. For the first time, James realized that she grieved for Xenia Onatopp. . .she actually mourned the death of that sadistic bitch. And as she did only moments earlier with her father, Sassy comforted her mother. M said softly, "Could you back up, dear. . .and tell us about why you remained with 006?"

"All right. Much to my surprise, Alec meant what he said, when he told me that he wanted to see me again. Over the next three weeks, he called on me at least once a day, always when I had a chaperone. And always, it was either Diana or my father. Jack knows my father, so he could tell you what he's like. I didn't care. I was falling in love with Alec, and I wouldn't listen to any warnings I might hear. . ." she began.

St Petersburg, 1994-Cuba, 1995 

"He's late. . .he probably had something better to do today," Rowanne Bramwell fretted as she paced back and forth in her room. She pushed a lock of dark hair back from her eyes, glancing out the window as she did. The weather in Russia was starting to turn cold. The plan was for them to return home soon, but Rowanne was finding she didn't want to go. She wanted to stay with Alec.

While she never had a gentleman caller, as her grandmother would have said, Rowanne had feelings for males in the past. But this was different. More intense than anything she ever felt before. A smile from Alec could turn her mind to mush, her blood to lava, and her bones to wet pasta. She was falling in love with him, and she was both exhilarated and terrified. The bad part was, she really didn't know how he felt about her.

Rowanne wasn't a stupid girl, though right now, she was more headstrong than usual. There was a part of her that feared he was using her, a common malady for the Bramwell sisters. Always fearing that their money was far more attractive than they were. Of course she was afraid he was using her. But a stronger part of her didn't care. In the three weeks since their first meeting, she saw him nearly every day.

The night after the ball, Rowanne and her mother had a terrible argument. It started when big-mouth Corliss informed their mother that '_Daddy's giving RJ's dress to charity, 'cause he said it made her look terrible_.' It didn't help when Jonah Bramwell admitted this, and added that, '_Diana is taking RJ shopping for a more appropriate dress. . .with my credit card.'_

Things went from bad to worse, when Alec arrived to call upon Rowanne. Christine took one look at him and hated him, presumably for the scars marring his handsome face. Those were her exact words. Alec returned her hatred with a passion that startled Rowanne. However, she was too angry with her mother to question it, and when Diana invited Alec to join them on their shopping trip, he agreed immediately.

He proved to be a charming companion, taking them to the large department stores that were going up in St Petersburg and the smaller boutiques. He had excellent taste, with a good eye for the colors that would suit Rowanne. By the time they halted for lunch, Rowanne was falling in love. No man ever treated her like this before. No man ever showed her such attention. Not even her father. . .not even her beloved twin.

Over the next three weeks, Rowanne spent at least a few hours a day with Alec. She never questioned him about what he did the other hours in the day. It didn't matter. For even a few hours a day, he would be with her, and when he was with her, it seemed as if she was the only person in his world. Rowanne feared it was too much to ask that Lydia's prediction of a few weeks earlier was coming true. . .that she would find a devastatingly handsome man who thought she was the center of the world.

If she wasn't the center of his world, what did it matter? He took her to the ballet, to the symphony, and occasionally, they would indulge in a passionate kiss that put their first two to shame. But he was forever the gentleman with her, and Rowanne was losing her heart to him. Sometimes, she questioned how he truly felt about her. . .but Alec assured her that he had no need of her money. He had his own. He was a businessman.

Years later, Rowanne would mentally replay their conversations, and wonder why she never asked him what kind of business. It wasn't likely that he would have told her the truth then. . .but she could have asked. She didn't. And why didn't she? Because a) she was falling in love with him, and at that point in her life, love really _was_ blind. And b) she was so lonely, she didn't think she cared _what_ he did for a living.

Today was the first day, since they started seeing each other, that Alec was even a little bit late. Diana said, looking at her over her magazine, "He's just a little late, honey. Maybe he got caught in traffic. Relax, or you'll have Mother in here. And I don't think any of us want _that_, little sister." Rowanne rolled her eyes, but sat down. Christine Bramwell made it very clear that she wanted nothing to do with Alec, who admitted during his second 'date' with Rowanne that his last name was 'Trevelyan.'

_A nice Cornish name_, she said with a smile. But there was no answering smile, only a pain in his eyes, and she asked anxiously what was wrong. He just smiled faintly after a moment. . .not the brilliant smile she was quickly coming to love. . .and told her that 'Trevelyan' wasn't his real last name. . .he didn't know what his real last name was. He was a small child when his parents died, and 'Trevelyan' was the name given to him while he was in the orphanage. . .which was in Cornwall.

He was three years old, as best as they could figure it. He couldn't remember much of his early life. Three years old when he arrived at the orphanage, and never adopted in all the years at the orphanage. Alec looked away, a muscle tightening in his jaw. After a moment, he slowly exhaled, but even so, she could still see the pain in his eyes. And in his eyes, she saw something else. _No one ever wanted me._

Rowanne's throat ached with unshed tears for that little boy, and she put her hand over Alec's, whispering, _I'm so sorry. So very sorry_. He looked away, but that haunted look of grief and pain and fury remained with her. However, he didn't remove his hand from her grasp. Instead, he cleared his throat and asked her if she wanted any dessert. It was a quiet little place where they ate, in a dark corner near the back. Quiet. Private.

It never occurred to her that people didn't seem to notice Alec. She was too wrapped up in him to notice that it was usually Diana who retrieved salesgirls. . .Alec often wanted her to model the new clothes for him, so he remained behind. And always his back was to the newcomers. Nor did she notice that when they were out together, he didn't wear black. He almost always wore black if it was just the two of them. She didn't notice. She had Alec to herself (_aside from Diana_), and that was what she wanted.

"He's here!" Corliss blurted out, running into the room. Corliss shared their mother's distaste for Alec, but at the same time, she seemed to like him. Her three older sisters never really bothered to question this behavior, because she was a teenager, and therefore, a bundle of contradictions. It was no different than what they were like at her age, and besides, both Diana and Lydia had their own misgivings about Alec.

Not that Rowanne particularly cared. She had other things on her mind. And besides, how often did she approve of any of her sisters' boyfriends? She never met any of Ethan's girlfriends, so she had no basis of comparison. But none of that mattered, not right now, because Alec was here. Rowanne felt a familiar bolt shoot through her body at the very mention of the man with whom she was falling passionately in love.

She was on her feet immediately, and darted to the window. There it was, the car Alec always used when he came for her. Rowanne didn't bother looking for Alec. . .he was already on his way inside. She sagged against the windowsill, silently thanking whatever deity was smiling upon her for his safe arrival. Until she saw that car, Rowanne truly had no idea how worried she was for him. The door opened, revealing her father with Alec, and Rowanne didn't think twice about how to greet her 'gentleman caller.'

She threw herself into his arms, whispering, "Oh, thank God! I was so worried!" Alec hesitated, as if startled, then his arms closed around her. Rowanne barely noticed his hesitation or his awkwardness. She was so relieved he was all right! A thousand things could have gone wrong. At last, she released him, long enough to kiss him. . .the first time she initiated a kiss.

That shocked him even more, and Rowanne was smugly pleased, as she got her first taste of power. Alec groaned against her mouth, his body reacting most unexpectedly as she pressed against him. He pulled away from her after a moment, and she smiled up at him sweetly. He smiled back then, and in a way he never smiled before. When he spoke, Alec's voice was hoarse, asking, "Are you ready?"

"Never doubt it," she answered with a saucy grin. That caused Alec's own smile to broaden, and Rowanne felt the world tremble. Oh. . .dear. The man's smile should be registered as a lethal weapon. He offered her his arm, which she took. She barely paid attention to the rest of the family. Alec was taking them all to an open-air market. The first time they hadn't visited shops.

Throughout the day, they never made any attempts to lose their chaperone, Diana. As it grew cooler, however, Rowanne tucked herself against Alec's side for warmth. And that was how she was spared what came next. One moment, she was glancing over her shoulder at Diana, who stopped briefly to look at something. . .and the next, there was fire and pain, and shouting. . .a weight on her own body, and then finally, darkness.

When she came to, she was lying in a soft bed, with a strange woman at her side. The woman eyed her appraisingly, then smiled coolly, as if she found Rowanne wanting. She had a feral beauty that terrified the girl. She terrified Rowanne even more when she ran a single finger down the girl's throat, the threat clear. She could snap Rowanne's neck with very little effort. And she had no compulsion whatsoever about doing so.

It was then that Alec entered. He looked tired and rumpled. Rowanne choked out, "Alec!" She lunged for him, and almost fell out of bed. Alec caught her easily and gently pushed her back against the pillows. However, she wasn't inclined to let go of him. What happened, where was she, was her family all right, what happened, was he okay? Alec waited patiently until she finally ran down.

No one was certain what happened, he told her quietly, but it was nearly three weeks since the incident, and Rowanne was unconscious all that time. He was fine, but there were things requiring his attention. She was also fine. However, in the confusion, he lost track of her family. He didn't know if they were alive, but he had contacts, and they were looking for them. Until they were found, she was to rest and heal.

She would find out, years later, that Alec told her the truth, on most counts. No one, including Janus, knew what happened. Maybe it was just a freak accident. And he did indeed lose track of her family. . .but, he wasn't exactly looking very hard at the time. And finally, while it was three weeks before she regained consciousness, some of that was due to Alec's allies keeping her sedated during that time.

After she recovered, she was given her own apartment. . .own flat, as Alec called it. She was in love with him. . .any doubts were swept away when the woman, Xenia, told her that Alec pushed her to the ground and protected her with his own body. She had her own personal bodyguards, who actually seemed to be fond of her. She had her own place, and as worried as she was about her family, she was happy.

About two months after she woke up, Alec told her that he found her parents. By some mistake, a young girl killed in the blast was identified as Rowanne. Thinking that Rowanne was dead, her parents took her body back to be buried in the States. Alec would notify them that Rowanne was alive and well. She stared at him in shock, then as she had twice before, threw herself into his arms. This time, she wept.

That night, for the first time in nearly four months, she talked to her entire family. Yes, she was fine. She didn't know when she would come home. . .right now, wherever Alec was, was home for her. Yes, she loved them all, and she would see them again. That night, drunk on champagne and joy and Alec, she lost her virginity. For the next few months, she was blissfully happy.

It was much later that she found out that in thanks for saving Rowanne's life, a very grateful Jonah Bramwell gave Alec another donation. Alec told him during one private conversation that he worked for Janus. Rowanne knew none of this. Right then, the only thing marring her happiness was how strangely Alec was behaving. He was still gentle with her, but there was a distance in his eyes that wasn't there before. As she often did, she fretted that she did something wrong, something that upset the man whom sheadored.

Her bodyguards assured her that this wasn't the case at all. He had a lot on his mind right now. An important deal was in the works, something that the boss worked on for the last several years, and that was taking all of his time. She was somewhat relieved. Except for one thing. The woman, Xenia. Xenia Onatopp, a former fighter pilot, she learned. Rowanne felt threatened by her. . .and she stayed the hell out of her way.

And then, late each night, Alec came to her. The strange light in his eyes remained, but they made love. He worshipped her body, tying her wrists to the bedposts with silk scarves, and his hands. . . Rowanne would have happily done whatever he asked, just so long as he never stopped touching her. If his smile should have been registered as a lethal weapon, then his touch was equally dangerous. She had no idea how right she was.

Only weeks later, Xenia Onatopp came to her apartment and told her to pack. They were going to Cuba. Confused and scared, Rowanne did as she was told. She packed for a week, wondering what was going on. However, her bodyguards reassured her that their boss took care of everything. Trusting Alec, she did as she was told. Nor did she notice that her bodyguards never called Alec by name. It was always 'the boss.'

On the way to Alec's private jet (?!?), they made a stop at what the bodyguards delicately called 'the offices.' Xenia Onatopp ordered, "Wait here. There are. . .items. . .I must retrieve." Rowanne never even thought about saying 'no.' When Xenia returned, she gave Rowanne several folders. She said, staring hard at the girl, "Keep those close. If you love him, you may need them. Do you understand, girl?"

Rowanne nodded, and hugged the files close. Not another word was said the rest of the way. She was put on Alec's private jet, and told that Alec would be joining her soon. And at first, it wasn't too bad. It was dreadfully hot, quite different from St Petersburg. She stayed inside, since she kept getting sick, and spent the next several days catching up on her reading. After she and Alec became lovers, she had little time for it.

But as she ran out of reading material, and Alec still didn't appear, she grew desperately lonely. She confided only in her journal, because there was no one there whom she could talk to. Worse, now that Alec wasn't here to distract her, Rowanne was starting to question things. She was realizing she was in over her head. But even now, she found it damn near impossible to see the full scope of the danger to her.

There were other problems. Her emotions were out of control. She swung from resenting Alec for not being here to enjoying having time alone to feeling guilty for resenting him. She was tired all the time. And more than once, she woke up sick. Unfortunately, there wasn't a doctor around, so she couldn't find out what was wrong with her. Just hope it was nothing serious, and ride it out.

Once Alec arrived, things didn't improve. If anything, they became even more confusing. Alec came to her almost every night, often half-dead from sheer exhaustion. Sometimes, he would make love to her with a barely-restrained passion. Other times, he would just collapse onto her bed and sleep. These nights were more worrying for her, since they always began with a devastating migraine for her lover.

Alec was always so strong. . .but when the migraines hit, he was like a child. She had to turn the lights down low, because his eyes were so sensitive, and keep a basin beside her bed. She hated those nights, because there was nothing she could really do to help him. Only sit beside him and rub his back through the worst of the spasms when he began retching. The whimpers of pain broke her heart, because it was so unlike Alec.

Sometimes, it helped him if she held him tightly and stroked his hair as if he were a child. That sometimes relaxed him. Other times, even touching his hair caused him even greater pain, as did touching the scars on his face. Surprisingly, it took Alec some time to get used to her touching his scars, even though he knew she wasn't repulsed by them, or even frightened by them.

But most frightening of all were the times when he was exhausted and wouldn't let go. The night before everything came to a head, she pushed him into a chair and ordered him to stay put. He was too exhausted to protest her high-handed treatment. He kept murmuring only three words, "Betrayal. . .Bond. . .stop." Alec'sshoulder muscles were unbearably tight, and Rowanne helped him to take off the black turtleneck.

She asked him softly as she tossed the turtleneck to one side and began kneading his shoulders, "Why do you always wear black?" It was a question she often wanted to ask of him, but never could. He groaned, relaxing under her ministrations. For the first time, she realized how selfish she had been, always taking strength from him. She vowed to take better care of him. Whatever was necessary, she would do to take care of Alec.

She wasn't really expecting an answer to her question. But as he fought back a second groan, Alec answered hoarsely, "Mourning. I've been in mourning for my parents for nine years." Then he added something in Russian, and a sob broke free. Rowanne stopped what she was doing, stunned by his unexpected vulnerability, and put her arms around him from behind, pressing a kiss against his dark blond hair.

She never felt this way about him before. Always before, he was her knight in shining armor. But this. . .she didn't know this Alec, and she felt a little worried about the feelings she had as she held him tightly. She wanted to take care of him, wanted to protect him, wanted to hold him near. She repeated her silent vow, made only moments earlier, to take better care of him in the days ahead.

Alec turned in her arms, burying his face against her shoulder. She stroked his hair gently, as he whispered, "He's coming for me, and none of this has anything to do with you. Go, Rowanne." He pulled away from her, his green eyes reflecting grief and pain. Rowanne cupped his face in her hands, as he added, "You can't save my soul, Rowanne. . .I don't have one left. I should send you away."

"Alec, no! I love you! I don't know who is coming for you, but if he wants to hurt you, he'll have to come through me!" Rowanne retorted in all of her innocence. Alec groaned again, dropping his head onto her shoulder. Rowanne massaged the back of his neck, more than a little scared. What was happening to him, why was he acting like this? And who was this mysterious 'he' that he kept talking about?

"Oh, Rowanne. You still believe that you can save the world. But you can't. You can't save me. You can't protect me, Rowanne. No one can. If you try, you'll only get hurt. Go while you can. Go, before he finds you here. I don't know if he'll believe you had nothing to do with this," Alec replied. Was this the mysterious 'he' who was coming for Alec? Rowanne didn't care. The walls around Alec's heart came down, and she. . .

She didn't know how she would protect him. . .but she would find a way. She pressed another kiss to his hair, whispering, "Stay with me tonight. . .stay with me, and let me just hold you. I know you're tired. But you've taken care of me for so long. For once, just for once, let me take care of you. I don't know who hurt you, and I don't know who betrayed you. . .but I want to take care of you."

He didn't answer. Not verbally, at least. Instead, he kissed her. On the lips, at first. Then the corners of her mouth, then the tip of her chin, then the tip of her nose, making her smile. And he smiled back, somewhat hesitantly. He kissed both cheeks, he kissed her forehead, first one temple, then the other. Then finally, his lips returned to hers, his fingers trailing through her hair.

No words were spoken. In some ways, it was like their first kiss, with their roles reversed. This time, it was Alec accepting her kisses tentatively. He groaned, but broke the kiss and whispered, "The bed. I. . ." Rowanne kissed him briefly, silencing him. She helped him to his feet, then steered him toward the bed.

He was terribly vulnerable right now, and totally unlike the Alec she first met. She drew him into her arms, holding him tightly. Again, it took him a few moments to relax into her embrace. He was muttering unintelligibly. Something about 'payback. . .price of betrayal. . .justice for my parents.' Rowanne said nothing. Just held him ashe fell asleep. Long after he drifted off, however, she remained awake.

What exactly had she gotten herself into, and had she just thrown away a chance to get out of a potentially deadly situation? Rowanne tightened her arms around Alec. When she first met him, she knew that he could be dangerous. But how could she leave him now? The answer was simple. She couldn't. Alec needed her, in a way no one ever needed her before. Hell, for that matter, no one ever needed _her_ before. She was always superfluous.

It took her a long time to fall asleep. And when she awoke, Alec was gone. . . from her arms, from her bed. Sighing, she reached for her journal. Breakfast wasn't an option. She began writing of the events of the previous night, noting, **He scares me sometimes. Alec can be so intense. I think that's what scares me, but I can't pull away. I see him looking at me, and I can't figure out what he sees. Because I'm not sure he sees me at all. I want to help him, but how can I if he won't let me?**

A thud outside her door alerted her that something was terribly wrong. With a snap, Rowanne closed her journal and untangled her legs. Even so, she almost fell off her bed when Xenia Onatopp entered her room. The woman looked terrible! There was a terrible bruise across her chest and throat. However, she focused on Rowanne and rasped, "You have five minutes to pack. He needs you. Do not fail him, Juturna."

This wasn't the first time Xenia called her 'Juturna,' but right now, that was the least of Rowanne's worries. She grabbed her overnight bag, which included a change of clothes and the files, and put her journal inside. She looked up at Xenia and said, "Let's go." Alec needed her. Unexpectedly, Xenia smiled. A real smile, with no hint of mockery. She beckoned to Rowanne, and the girl followed her.

Rowanne could have never found her way a second time through the maze of tunnels that Xenia led her through. In the first place, she had the worst sense of direction of anyone she knew. And the other. . .well. . .it _was_ a maze. When they reached their destination, she caught her breath. It was a massive underground hangar. And there was only one helicopter remaining. Her eyes spied a stretcher and a first-aid kit, and she trotted over to it. Xenia followed her, asking, "What are you doing, you foolish girl?"

Rowanne retorted, "Alec may need medical help!" Much to her surprise, Xenia backed down and took the stretcher from her hands, while Rowanne pickedthe first-aid kit. As they raced toward the helicopter, Rowanne finally had the courage to ask, "What's going on? Who is coming for Alec, and why did he insist that I leave?" Xenia looked at her quickly, and Rowanne added, "Why do you always call me 'Juturna,' when my name is Rowanne?"

"Juturna is what you are. Consort to Janus," Xenia replied. It took Rowanne a moment to process that, and by the time it penetrated her stunned mind, she was on the helicopter. Xenia's next words forced her to focus, "No doubt, Janus tries to protect you from the man who comes for him. James Bond. . .an old 'friend' of his. Janus told me that he no longer had a heart. I was not foolish enough to believe _that_."

Xenia shook her head, snorting a little in disgust. Rowanne would have questioned the woman, but the helicopter lurched up, and the girl was thrust backward into the co-pilot's seat. Once she righted herself, she received another shock. Xenia muttered under her breath, staring in the same direction. Two figures fought atop what looked like a radio tower. What in the hell was that. . .and was that a satellite dish down below them?

Xenia grabbed her ankle, hissing, "It would seem, little Juturna, that you were right to bring the medical equipment." As they drew closer, Rowanne saw what she meant. One of the figures was Alec, hanging upside down from the grasp of the other man. Rowanne's blood ran cold. . .especially after the man released Alec.

"ALEC!!!!!!!!!!! Oh, God, Alec, no!" Rowanne screamed, her voice raw with anguish. Xenia grabbed her arm and shook her a little. The girl turned her attention to her reluctant companion, tears streaming down her face. Xenia was attaching a rope to her waist. Rowanne wiped away her tears, asking hoarsely, "Are we getting his body?" She tried to keep from breaking down again.

"No, foolish little Juturna, we will rescue him. Look. Bond is getting away. We will make sure that Janus lives to fight another day. Come here. You! On my signal, lower us down. We'll get Janus, then you can pull us up. GO!" Xenia ordered furiously. Rowanne's mind was on autopilot. She did as she was told. One moment, she was pulled roughly into Xenia's arms, and the next, she was. . . flying.

The wind was cold, and it was hard to breathe. All the way down, all Rowanne could think was, _he's dead. He must be dead. But I can't just leave him there_. _Please fight, Alec. Please, I've never known you to give up, please don't start now_. At last, they reached the cradle, and Xenia released Rowanne, then dropped to her knees. At the same time, Alec moaned softly and his eyes fluttered open.

He didn't seem capable of focusing on either of them. He was staring at something beyond them. What was he seeing? Rowanne knelt beside him, lightly caressing his hair, and whispered, "It's okay, Alec. We're here now. We'll make this all right. . .somehow." But her voice shook, and she wasn't entirely sure if anything would ever be all right. Alec didn't answer. Just stared past her, at something she couldn't see.

"Be silent, Juturna. . .listen," Xenia whispered. Rowanne looked at her, startled. She didn't hear anything. She started to ask Xenia what she heard. . .and why Rowanne couldn't hear it. However, Xenia's hand slipped around her throat, reminding the girl that her companion didn't like her, and had no problem with killing her. Xenia didn't _need_ her to save Alec. . .she could do it all by herself.

It was then that Rowanne heard it. An ugly sound, metal groaning in distress. As if. . . With her heart in her throat, she looked up very, very slowly. So did Xenia. Her eyes hardened, then snapped to Rowanne. She stared at the girl for a few moments, then her lips thinned, as if she came to a decision. Xenia undid the rope from her waist, then tied it around Rowanne's waist instead with quick, decisive movements.

There was no time for discussion, there was no time for thought. Only for action. Xenia knew exactly what she was doing. With the rope secure, she knelt next to Alec and carefully lifted him. He screamed in agony, the sound breaking Rowanne's heart, and passed out again. Already confused and scared, the girl didn't ask what Xenia was doing. . .and if they wouldn't end up doing more damage to Alec.

But there was no time. Any time now, that. . .thing, that tower, would come crashing down. It would kill all three of them. Alec _might_ die if they moved him. He would _definitely_ die if they didn't move him. There was no time, there were no other options. A quick glance at Xenia told her that the fighter pilot knew this. It told her one other thing. Whatever else Xenia Onatopp did. . .she genuinely cared for Alec.

"Hold him," Xenia demanded brusquely. Rowanne was only too willing to comply. Alec's head rested against her collarbone, lolling to one side. Then Xenia pulled a rabbit out of her hat. . .she had another cord, which she bound around both Alec and Rowanne, stabilizing them both. Xenia smiled then. . .a real smile. She said, "Take good care of him, little Juturna. You are not the little mouse I thought you to be."

With those surprising words, Xenia waved her arm at the co-pilot, and Rowanne felt herself lifted into the air. She cried out, "Xenia! NO!" The other woman was sacrificing herself, to save Alec. It didn't occur until later that Xenia also saved _her_. Instinctively, her arms tightened around Alec. Xenia whirled around and threw out her arms, as if embracing her doom. And perhaps she was. Her face was upturned.

The satellite tower came crashing down, burying Xenia in metal and fire. Rowanne wept helplessly. Alec was still alive, but for how long? Decisions. . .there were so many decision to make, and the most important one was. . .where did they go? Alec wouldn't survive the trip to New York, because her first instinct was to take him home. As she and Alec were pulled inside, the co-pilot asked, "Where?"

Home. She wanted to go home. She wanted to run home to Mommy and Daddy, and Daddy would make everything right, but she couldn't do that. Alec would never survive. But she had another home, closer than New York. And she wasn't sure if he would make it there, but they had a better chance this way. She collapsed beside Alec, answering hoarsely, "Puerto Rico. We go to Puerto Rico. I need some doctors. I can't save him by myself."

She barely had the breath to say that, before she started coughing. Right at that moment, she couldn't even take care of herself, much less Alec. However, it wasn't necessary. The co-pilot was already doing what he could for Alec's injuries. The man was shaking his head, but his face was filled with determination. She would ask, much later, why Alec's people were so loyal to him.

It took Rowanne several moments to regain her breath, and when she did, she immediately went to Alec's side. Alec was Janus. The reason she was in Russia in the first place. But looking at him, she only saw an unconscious, defenseless man. The man she loved. With a sob, she took his hand and pressed it to her cheek. He had to wake up. She had so many questions. . .there was so much she didn't know!

Puerto Rico, 2004

The room was silent as she took a deep breath, her slim shoulders heaving. It was clear from M's expression that she got more than she bargained for when she asked the younger woman to tell her why she chose to remain with Alec. But even James Bond was surprised at the compassion in his supervisor's voice as she said, "You were just a child, and you suddenly found yourself in the one situation you never dreamed possible."

"I. . .there were decisions to be made. And I was the only one who could make them. All of Alec's people, the upper-level staff, were dead. The idea was to head to our estate, to the Bramwell compound in Puerto Rico, where we could stabilize Alec, and I could figure out where to go from there. Mother and Father never visited PR, the compound was just sitting there. I thought. . . It didn't quite work out like that. We almost lost Alec twice on the way to Puerto Rico," Rowanne Trevelyan murmured.

Privately, Bond thought it would have been a pity if he didn't die en route, or under that satellite tower. However, he knew better than to open his mouth. A lot was starting to become clear, however. How Alec survived twice. But he still didn't understand why they were there. Or how Rowanne Bramwell got Alec onto American soil, how they even made it into American airspace.

He re-directed his attention to his former friend, hoping to find enlightenment there. Alec's wife continued, "I decided my first priority was to save him, and I would go from there. While we were en route, I arranged for two surgeons to fly from New York to Puerto Rico, with money I inherited from my grandmother. We worked to buy him time, kept him warm, and kept him from going into shock.

"Once the surgeons arrived, and Alec was in surgery, the pilot and co-pilot took me aside and asked me what would happen to Janus. I knew that Janus was Alec, but I didn't understand what they meant, and they explained that Janus wasn't just Alec. . .it was also a criminal syndicate. It was too much for me. My parents gave money to a leader in the Russian crime syndicate, and I was his mistress."

Her eyes were closed even as she spoke. M said softly, as if deducing what came next, "You felt that you couldn't go home. Not back to the United States, as such. Then you found out that Janus was comatose." Rowanne nodded, tears once more trickling down her face. M went on, her voice actually gentle, "So, until you could decide what to do, Janus was shut down. What happened next?"

"I learned I was pregnant. At that point, everything changed. I was angry with Alec. . .so angry with him. And with myself, for being such a stupid little fool. But my child had to take first priority. I went from having no responsibility, to making decisions that would affect countless lives. Mine. . .the Janus operatives. . . Alec's. . .and Sassy's. Then, when I was six months pregnant, I got another shock," Rowanne explained.

She opened her eyes then, and looked directly at James Bond. The agent tensed in spite of himself. She was about to say something impossible. He could feel it. Rowanne said quietly, "When Xenia gave me those files, what she didn't tell me was that there were other items. Including a series of videotapes. The videotapes were of the interrogation, torture, and reprogramming of British MI-6 agent 006, Alec Trevelyan."

After the announcement was made, you could have heard a pin drop. But James wasn't paying attention to the silence. Instead, he stared at Rowanne Trevelyan in shock. She _could_ not. . .she did _not_ say what he thought she just said. But her expression held only a grim truth. She continued, her voice no longer steady, "He was captured at Arkangelsk, knocked unconscious. The gunshot didn't kill him. Ourumov's hand twitched, just a little, just enough to throw off the trajectory of the bullet."

Now Rowanne Trevelyan's eyes were locked on his own. He could not look away. She went on, "First came the beatings. Those didn't break him. Next was the torture. He was taught by the best, and Alec fought with all of his strength. The cameras taped every moment. They taped his agony and his defiance. He didn't hold out because of loyalty to England. It was loyalty to you, Mr Bond, only you."

No. He _wouldn't._ . .he _couldn't _believe that. Rowanne went on, "Ourumov wasn't concerned. Because, you see, he had a weapon, a new device he was aching to try out. And Alec was his new guinea pig. Ourumov authorized a particularly brutal beating, one that nearly killed Alec. I know how badly they hurt him. I know he almost died, and it was then that the final phase was begun."

"I was captured and tortured by the North Koreans," James responded coolly, "held for fourteen months. I was betrayed by a mole within MI-6, but I didn't betray my country or my agency." The woman's eyes went nearly black with rage. She released her husband's hand. Alec looked at her. . they made eye contact. Then Alec looked away. His wife rose to her feet, stalked over, and slapped James hard across the face. He thought briefly about making a smart remark, but decided against it. Trained agent or not, he was coming to learn, she could be just as dangerous as Alec.

"Well, bully for you. Did the Koreans have a memory device?" Rowanne Trevelyan hissed. A memory device? She cocked her head to one side, adding, "You don't think such a thing exists? Oh, but you're wrong. A scientist, never named in the videotapes, invented a way to wipe out memories, and replace them with new ones. And that is what they did to Alec. He already knew about your country's betrayal of his parents. It was the opening they needed. That subconscious desire to pay back his parents' murderers."

It wasn't possible. But James Bond thought about Icarus, and other such devices. In his world, anything and everything was possible. The woman continued, "False memories were planted. . .that Alec faked his own death at Arkangelsk, to defect to the USSR, to get revenge on England. It also wiped out another memory. . .the reset of the timer if something went wrong. That was standard procedure, was it not?"

It was. She shouldn't have known that. And as if hearing his thoughts, she shrugged, adding, "I told you, Commander Bond. The cameras captured everything. Not just the video feed, but the audio feed. Alec said, before they used the memory device on him, that you reset the timers. It was standard operating procedure, when a mission went south, to reset the timers. He told his captors that, said you did what you were supposed to do. Stated just as plain as day. It never occurred to you that he should have remembered that?"

No. It didn't. But she was right. It was, indeed, standard operating procedure to reset the timers in such a situation. Alec's wife went on softly, "It took nearly two years to break Alec, then remake him into Janus. Keep in mind, Mr Bond, that I was six months pregnant when I watched this. Those tapes almost sent me into premature labor. And as we fought to save my baby, I knew I couldn't let her father die. Alec deserved a second chance."

There was a second long silence, one that lasted almost as long as the first, then M whispered, "Oh, my dear girl." Her voice shook, and James looked at his superior officer in shock. The former bean counter shook her head, and said compassionately, "You were just a child yourself, and suddenly had all these burdens to bear. Caught up in something you didn't understand. . .you didn't know whom you could trust."

"After I was stabilized, and rested for a while, I realized that it was up to me, to put things to rights. Alec was unconscious, and it was all up to me. I couldn't do that, if I didn't know everything. So, once I was cleared to leave the impromptu infirmary that was created when we brought Alec to Puerto Rico, I tracked down one of the Janus operatives, and asked him to tell me everything. And he did," the girl replied, not directly answering M's words.

She rubbed at her face, but continued, "I told him that I couldn't decide what to do right then. He told me that if there was anything I needed, to just ask him. So, for the next few months, I concentrated on my daughter and Alec. Sassy was born almost seven months to the day after Goldeneye was destroyed. I named her 'Anastasia Alexandra Trevelyan,' because 'Anastasia' means 'resurrection,' and 'Alexandra' for her father."

"I was in a coma for five years. When I woke up, I had no memory. My body was almost healed, but my mind was blank. Even now, I can't be sure which are true memories and which are planted. The last clear memory I have of work is from the end of 1985, when I received my parents' file. The last personal memory I have from before Arkangelsk is Cassandra, Sabrina's mother," Trevelyan said quietly.

"In the first several months after his awakening, he was totally dependent on me. Both physically and mentally. It took time before his muscles were strong enough for him to feed himself, and. . . And he was terrified, because he would have flashes of the torture in his dreams. Sassy was a big help to me. She would lay beside him in his bed and just keep him company," Rowanne explained.

M asked softly, "When did you come to a decision about what to do about Janus? When did you make the decision to turn it into an anti-terrorist unit?" The laughter died from the younger woman's eyes, and her face drained of color. James remembered what was said about Diana Bramwell's death in 2001. '_She was murdered. . .get your facts straight_,' the young woman said. And suddenly, Bond knew. He looked at the dark-haired woman quickly, hoping that he was wrong.

But Diana's younger sister said quietly, "I made that decision in 2001. When my world changed, when my sister was murdered. Not that very day. I was incapable of doing much of anything that day. Alec still didn't remember much, and I couldn't. . .I couldn't tell him how Diana died. That didn't come until later, when he did remember about Janus, and he was so terribly angry with me for subverting his organization."

"She. . .there were several days when I didn't see her, in the last few months of 2001. All Sassy would tell me was that her mother was sad, because Aunt Deenie was dead. It wasn't until the following year, when I remembered everything, that I learned the entire story. It was a rather unpleasant confrontation, and we'll not bore you with the details," Alec explained. James rolled his eyes. _How very convenient_!

His former partner continued, "Rowanne demanded to know why I was entitled to wipe out an entire country. . .but she could not target the murderers who took the life of her sister. Along with three thousand others. I knew Diana. I knew how protective she was of Rowanne, how much she loved her. By this time, I realized that I loved Rowanne as well. I also knew she was right. At that moment, Janus became a full-fledged anti-terrorist organization, and my operatives had their own license to do what was required."

Once more, Jack Wade took up the narrative, saying, "I've worked with these two as a team for two years. I know what Al was. I know what he is now. Now you gotta convince me that you aren't a threat to these people. They've becomemy family, Jimbo. And one thing, above all, is important to Al, to Ro, and to me. . .family."

There was a long, uncomfortable silence, then M asked quietly, "What sort of act of faith would convince you?" Bond's eyes snapped to his boss. An act of faith? But Alec betrayed them, not the other way around! M, however, didn't look at him. Her eyes were focused only on Rowanne Trevelyan. The current bane of his existence. She was dressed in loose pajama bottoms and a halter top. Her feet were bare, and her hair would have been the envy of Medusa. But right now, she held all the cards.

Then she leaned forward and whispered something to M. There was a long silence, as the head of MI6 gazed at the small young woman. Then M nodded, ever so slightly, and answered in a voice barely above a whisper, "Done." The way her eyes slid to 007 told him that he wouldn't like whatever she just agreed to. However, where M was concerned, that was standard operating procedure.

Rowanne Trevelyan heaved a deep sigh, then said, "All right. I have more to tell you, but that can wait until the morning. We're all exhausted. Jack, can you spare three of your Marines to escort Mr Robinson, M, and Mr Bond to guest bedrooms? Sabrina, take your sister upstairs to your room and I'll be along to tuck you and Sassy back into bed. . .right after I see to your father." Wade nodded, signaling three of his men.

"I'll come with you. . .really, Rowanne, I'm not an invalid, you know," Alec protested as his younger daughter slid off his lap. He rose to his feet, but swayed. His wife covered the steps necessary and steadied him. Wade took his other arm, and in spite of himself, James was alarmed at how pale Alec was. He was even more alarmed by the way Alec leaned against Wade. That wasn't like him.

"Thanks, Jack. . .and Alec, stop. I'm your wife, it's my job to take care of you. Bree, I'll be up in a few minutes," Rowanne replied, addressing her step-daughter. Bond looked at the girl again. She looked away from her father several times during the narrative. He wondered if this was a schism he could exploit in the family. However, this possibility was cut off for him when the girl's stepmother said, "Sweetheart, I'll tell you the rest of the story, I promise, answer all of your questions. Trust me?"

"Okay. C'mon, Sass," the girl replied, taking the child's hand. She looked at their father a bit uncertainly. Only someone who knew Alec Trevelyan very well, once upon a time, would have recognized the way he held himself. As if expecting a blow. Or backlash from a beloved child? That was it. Alec feared that his daughters would hate him after hearing the truth about his relationship with Rowanne Bramwell.

He wasn't the only one who saw it. Sabrina took a deep breath and added, "C'mon, let's kiss Daddy good-night first, munchkin. That jerk hit him awful hard, I think we could kiss and make better, don't you?" Alec stared at her, his eyes widening. . .then he smiled as Sassy tore free of her sister and flung herself into his arms. He scooped her up, almost falling a second time, but he held her tightly.

Over the top of Sassy's head, he looked at his older daughter and said, "I won't say that I didn't do those things. I. . ." He stopped in mid-sentence, his face paling further. Very carefully, he set Sassy down, and she kissed his forehead. In turn, Alec cupped her face in his hands, whispering, "Go with Sabrina, little one. All right?"

"Okay. You'll take care of Daddy, Grandpa Jack?" Sassy asked, looking at the ex-CIA agent with trusting eyes. Wade ruffled her hair, and that was answer enough, it seemed. The child skipped to her mother and jumped into her arms. Rowanne didn't stagger backward. Instead, she twisted her head sideways, pretending to gnaw on the little girl's neck. Sassy giggled, "Mommy! Stop! Daddy, make her stop!"

"Dad's not in any condition to stop anything, munchkin," Sabrina told her sister in a tolerant voice. She turned her attention to her father, and sighed deeply. She put her hand on his arm, saying softly, "I don't know why you did what you did. . .or anything like that. But if Rowanne's willing to forgive you for what you did to her, and have your babies, I guess I gotta at least hear why she's willing. Besides. I. . .you're my dad."

Alec started to speak, winced, and then re-focused his eyes. James watched the family drama with interest. Just how would Alec handle this? His question was answered when Alec squeezed her shoulder gently. Sabrina looked down at her feet, then back up again and smiled weakly. Rowanne settled Sassy on her feet, giving the girl a swat on the bum. Sassy glared at her mother, then raced to Sabrina and took her hand.

"I'll see you two in a bit. C'mon, Jack, let's get this overgrown child into bed. . .and spare me your snarky remarks," Rowanne said, turning to her husband. She slipped under one arm, drawing it across her shoulders, then eased her arm around his waist. She nodded to James coolly, adding, "In the morning, Mr Bond. For now, your curiosity has taken enough of my family's time. Two hours too much."

"Don't cause trouble, 007. Just go with our escorts," M said in a low voice. Bond glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, but said nothing. Right now, this was the last place he wanted to be. He would rather be back in England, harassing Q or teasing Moneypenny than in this place. But against his better judgment, he also wanted to hear the rest of the story. . .and then judge for himself.


	6. All I Ask of You

A somewhat musical chapter, as we have references to the theme song from '_Shaft_.' And one other, very special song. I was listening to Sirius on the satellite dish, and heard a song which, to me, was absolutely perfect for Alec and Rowanne. Since I've just been informed that we can't use song lyrics in chapters. . .well, the lyrics have been removed. It's_Phantom of the Opera_, and therefore, doesn't belong to me, but to Andrew Lloyd Webber, who co-wrote the song, and Gaston Leroux, who wrote the original novel. I have no idea if Sean Bean sings, but a girl can dream, can't she?

Also. . .I'm thinking of throwing in a challenge for each chapter. Whoever guesses the Sean Bean movie reference gets a virtual Alec/Ian/Boromir/Mellors/Sharpe/Partridge plushie of their choice. Any of my fellow Beanie babes up for it?

Caught in the Game Again

Chapter Five

All I Ask of You

For the first fourteen and a half years of her life, she was called 'Sabrina Malloy.' Daughter of Cassandra Malloy, a single mother, she grew up in Toronto, Ontario. They fought, as mothers and daughters often do. . .but they loved each other, and would defend each other, no matter what. They were happy, because Sabrina knew no other way to live. She never really cared where the male contributor to her existence was.

And then her mother became ill. It started out with simple exhaustion. The earliest symptom, but at the months passed and the exhaustion continued, Cassandra finally saw a doctor. With just one word, Sabrina's life was turned upside down in the blink of an eye. One moment, she was a somewhat happy teenager. . .and the next, her entire world imploded. Her mother had terminal cancer. She was dying. And no one knew where her birth father was.

Sabrina didn't really care, but her mother did. She began to tell Sabrina about the young Englishman who breezed into her life in the early months of 1986, while she was on holiday in Scotland. He was tall and blond, with beautiful green eyes. Sometimes, they were empty. . .other times, they were haunted. He called himself, 'James Vesseney,' but Cassandra suspected that wasn't his real name.

Like so many women in that situation, Cassandra ached to heal him, to give back whatever he lost. Her best friend, Jenna, called it, 'I'm broke, please fix me.' And it was Cassandra's first time, being with a man like that. She wasn't even sure if he was capable of loving her or anyone, for that matter, but she was nineteen, and she wanted him. For a brief time, she had him. . .for a brief time, she held heaven in her arms.

Sabrina was the result of that brief time in heaven. James, though distant at times, was a wonderful lover. He was hardly Cassandra's first, but even if he hadn't given her Sabrina, she still would have remembered him. She named her daughter 'Sabrina' after the teenaged witch, because Sabrina's father brought magic into her life. Cassandra's only true regret was that her daughter never had the chance to get to know her father.

Weeks before her mother died, a young woman appeared. She was Rowanne Bramwell, and she knew Sabrina's birth father. She provided certain details regarding Cassandra's affair with James Vesseney. That was good enough for Cassandra, who placed Sabrina in Rowanne's care. The teen and her new guardian remained in Toronto through Cassandra's last days, allowing the girl to say good-bye. . .and giving Rowanne time to arrange Sabrina's travel papers.

Three days after they buried Cassandra, Sabrina and Rowanne flew to Phoenix. On the way, Rowanne provided more answers. She was the mistress of Sabrina's birth father, Alec Trevelyan. Alec, Rowanne explained, had amnesia, and no one knew when he would remember Sabrina's mother. But that begged the question. . .if her father didn't remember her mother, how did Rowanne know about her? Especially the details about her parents' affair?

Rowanne was silent for such a long time, Sabrina began to think she had no intention of answering. Then the woman said softly, her eyes haunted, "Associates of your father told me about your mother. I can't tell you any more than that. I can only tell you that not long after he met your mother, something. . .terrible. . .happened to your father. You just watched your mother die. . .I don't think you're ready to hear the truth of what happened to your father."

Sabrina asked no more questions after that, though she had a thousand questions in her mind. She wanted to hate Rowanne, for being with her father. But Rowanne wasn't trying to take Cassandra's place. Far from it, and Sabrina wanted to hate her for that as well. And she wanted to know why Rowanne looked haunted. The woman next explained why they were bound for Phoenix, rather than Puerto Rico, where Rowanne and Sabrina's father lived.

Sabrina was her responsibility now, but Rowanne also had a responsibility to her own child, and to her. . .to Sabrina's father. If Sabrina showed up now, it could set her father's recovery back. Rowanne didn't expect it to take long, no more than a few months. Until Alec Trevelyan remembered having an affair with Cassandra Malloy, the home of Rowanne's younger sister Lydia was the best place for her.

When it was safe, Rowanne would come for her. And for the next four months, Sabrina lived with Lydia. Her temporary guardian could tell her little about her father, although the teen received the distinct impression that Lydia didn't like him. That Lydia blamed him for Rowanne's haunted expression.

The next time Sabrina saw Rowanne, the woman looked very tired, but the haunted expression was gone. It was safe for her to come home, she said, and some of her associates were gathering Sabrina's belongings. For the second time, Sabrina's world was turned upside down, but she followed Rowanne to Puerto Rico, where she met her father and half-sister.

She wasn't expecting her father to be a tall, handsome man. Yeah, her mum told her that he was handsome, but that was years ago! At just a few months shy of her fifteenth birthday, Sabrina considered anyone over the age of thirty to be old, but that didn't change the fact that her newly-discovered father was hot. He was also very shy around her. As if he was afraid she would disappear suddenly, and he feared making any wrong moves and frightening her away.

Two weeks after Sabrina's arrival, her father and Rowanne were married. During that time, Sabrina explored her new home and got to know her younger sister, Sassy. Her real name was 'Anastasia Alexandra Trevelyan,' but everyone called her 'Sassy.' According to the men who guarded her new home, her sister couldn't say 'Anastasia' when she was little, and 'Sassy' was the best she could do. Their father worshipped her, and adored Sabrina's new stepmother.

Only days after the wedding, construction began on the new house. It was being built around the skeleton of another house, one that burned down years earlier. And it was in this house that Sabrina spent the next two years. Little by little, she let down her guard with her father, stepmother, and little sister. Sassy made it so easy to love her. Sure, she whined on occasion, and got on Sabrina's nerves, but Sabrina liked the idea of being a big sister.

She still felt uncomfortable around Rowanne, but fortunately, Rowanne never tried to be Sabrina's mother. And her father terrified her. He was hot, yeah. . .but he would stare at her with such longing, such pain, it scared her. When she retreated from her father after an especially awkward conversation, Rowanne finally took her aside and explained that her father lost his parents when he was a small boy. . .so small, his memories of them were sketchy.

Common ground was established. Sabrina's father really _was_ afraid that she would disappear. He wanted to hold her, but his natural reserve, combined with his understanding of her own reserve, wouldn't permit that. So he just stared at her. The walls came down, and Sabrina came to love her father. Rowanne was the only person left out of the circle.

It was an uneasy truce that existed between them. . .Sabrina didn't trust Rowanne, but she had to tolerate her. Besides, Sabrina was bright enough and mature enough to realize that her distrust of Rowanne didn't come from Rowanne's deeds. Rowanne was never anything but honest with her. She. . .just wasn't ready to acknowledge Rowanne as her family. Until tonight, when those people invaded their home. And everything shifted, because of a common enemy.

Now, this. Maybe talking to Rowanne further would settle things for her. She glanced over at Sassy, who was sound asleep. Creaking in the hall alerted Sabrina that Rowanne was keeping her promise. This was borne out a moment later, when a light rapping announced her stepmother's arrival. Sabrina called 'come in,' and a second later, Rowanne slipped inside. She smiled wearily and said, "Sorry it took so long. You know your father. . .stubborn."

"It runs in the family," Sabrina observed and Rowanne nodded, checking on Sassy before she sat down on Sabrina's bed. The teen asked, "Why? After everything he did to you, why would you go through so much to save him? Why would you marry him, why would you have his child? Okay, scratch that last question, because Sassy doesn't have anything to do with this. . .but why?"

"That was one question disguised as many," Rowanne began, "but my answer. . .there are several parts to it. Why? Because I loved him. . .I loved him when I was a twenty-two year old kid who didn't know any better. And I love him now. Then, it was because he gave me what I wanted, what I craved, what I needed. Now, I love him because I know whom Alec Trevelyan really is. And that's part of the answer as well."

All right, then who was Alec Trevelyan, at least in the eyes of Rowanne Bramwell Trevelyan? As if hearing this silent challenge, her stepmother said softly, "You know that song, 'Shaft,' from the movie? Don't tell me you haven't watched it. . .I know the boys. There's a line in that song, 'he's a complicated man.' That's your father, to a 't.' Literally." Sabrina had to grin at this reference to their last name.

Rowanne took a deep breath, shook her head a little, then continued, "He's gentle and ruthless, tender and callous. He would die in a heartbeat for any of us, and he would kill just as quickly. He isn't perfect, Bree, and he would never make that claim. Thanks to those. . .monsters. . .who captured him years ago, he is all too aware of just how imperfect, just how flawed he really is. He doesn't lie to himself, doesn't dress his motives in pretty clothing."

She paused for a long moment, then said quietly, "But that doesn't answer your question, does it? I love him, Sabrina, because he gave me Sassy. Because he makes me happy. Because even though I don't look like my sisters, he still thinks I'm beautiful. I love him because I know, no matter how many times I fall, your father will be there to pick me up and set me on my feet. And I love him because there's no one else like him in the entire world. He's totally unique."

Her stepmother's fourth sentence brought a truth home to Sabrina. In her heart of hearts, Rowanne was still the shy twenty-two year old girl who first fell in love with Alec Trevelyan in a shadowy Russian ballroom. In spite of herself, Sabrina reached out and touched her stepmother's hand. Rowanne smiled faintly and allowed her fingers to curl around Sabrina's. The teenager returned the smile, remembering what Rowanne said downstairs.

But there were still questions to be answered. Based on what Sabrina heard earlier, her father did some terrible things. While that didn't matter to Sassy, who accepted their father without question, it mattered to Sabrina. She asked, still holding her stepmother's fingers, "But what about the other terrible things he did? I know that he used you, sort of like a human shield, but what about the other things he did?"

Rowanne took a deep breath, then replied, "You know the saying, 'guns don't kill people. . .people kill people.' A gun is an inanimate object, a weapon, a tool. Point and shoot. That is what a scientist did to your father. I won't tell you what they did to him, not in detail. But I can tell you that they tortured him, almost to the point of death. And then they scrambled his memories. He was no longer Alec Trevelyan. . .but Janus. A weapon in and of himself."

Sabrina shuddered, trying desperately to imagine that. But nothing in her life prepared her for such a thing. Rowanne sighed, "You'll understand more tomorrow. But for now. . .your father has spent four years, unscrambling his brains and trying to make things right. He's slipped and fallen, but he keeps moving forward. And I think that says something about him."

The teenager shrugged, because she wasn't sure what to think. About any of this. But he was still her father. And if he was tortured. . .maybe that did change things. She began to understand a few years earlier that the world didn't revolve around her. How could she know what she would do, if she was tortured as her father was? How could anyone know their own strength in a situation like that?

It was hard enough for her to put herself in Rowanne's shoes, after her older sister was killed, much less her father's shoes. Sabrina never met Aunt Diana, only heard about her from Aunt Lydia and Aunt Corliss. She knew that Aunt Diana was beautiful and brilliant, and in some ways, the favorite daughter. But there were still other questions to be asked. She asked, "Do you know, Rowanne. . . was Dad's affair with Mum before or after he became Janus?"

"Now that, I have no trouble knowing. It was before. About six months before he went to Arkangelsk, your father received a file telling exactly how his parents died. It's somewhat complicated, but your father came to believe that his entire life was a lie. Knowing what I do, I'm not so sure he was wrong. In any event, he struggled to work through it. . .without talking to anyone. Isn't that just like a man? This went on for three months. Finally, his supervisor noticed that he was not entirely there, and gave him time off. Your father went to Scotland, and you know the rest. When he returned to work, two months later, he was a lot better. Mind you, his memories of that are also sketchy, but one thing he does remember," Rowanne explained.

Sabrina nodded, understanding, and said, "My mother. She said, when she told me about Dad, that there were times when his eyes were haunted. . .and other times they were empty. It was because of what he found out about my grandparents, wasn't it?" Her stepmother nodded sadly, and Sabrina continued, "And Scotland. . .isn't that where your brother went to school? I mean, that was, like, years after I was born, but still."

Rowanne smiled unexpectedly and replied, "Funny, isn't it? The way that works. And I know you think you can't comprehend this, but I think you can. Your father lost. . .he lost everything that made him Alec Trevelyan. You lost your mother. You can't tell me that she wasn't your entire world, in all the ways that mattered." Sabrina frowned. She never quite thought about it in that respect, but she saw Rowanne's point.

Even so, she said softly, "I don't know what to think about this. Any of it. I don't know why those people are here, why one of them felt he had to attack Dad. I want to believe that you're right. But. . .I. . ." She sighed and shook her head. Rowanne put her hand on Sabrina's wrist. There was compassion there, in her step-mother's gaze. Compassion and grief, though Sabrina wasn't sure about the reason for the grief.

Nor did she ask. Rowanne kissed her forehead, saying, "You'll understand more in the morning. Get some rest. I'll need your help in the days ahead. They're here for a reason, Bree. And I got a bad feeling about this." So did Sabrina. As she snuggled down, she thought about everything she learned, and realized one very important thing. Whatever else happened, she had to look after her sister. That was what big sisters did.

Her stepmother slipped over to kiss Sassy good night, then left the room silently. Sabrina smiled over at her little sister, remembering the image of Sassy attacking James Bond. That was _too_ funny! Her smile died as she heard a thump in the hall. The teen, remembering how little sleep her stepmother had in the last few days, froze. But her paralysis lasted only a moment. She hurtled out of bed and flung open the door.

As she feared, Rowanne lay in a crumpled heap, only yards from Sabrina's room. Matthew left his post in front of the woman's guest room, and was striding over to join Sabrina at Rowanne's side. The ex-Marine said softly as he knelt beside the pair, "Ask the woman to watch over Sassy. She's the least likely to try something stupid. Then go get your father. I'll stay with Mrs. Trevelyan, make sure she didn't hurt herself."

Sabrina hesitated, but Matthew looked at her, saying softly, "It'll be fine. Your mom is exhausted and the excitement tonight made things worse. I just hope she didn't catch whatever Sassy had." Sabrina nodded and shuffled over to the guest bedroom where the lady, M, was staying. The girl didn't know if she should knock or not, but it proved to be a moot point when the woman opened the door.

Her expression reflected surprise and concern, and Sabrina launched into her explanation immediately, saying, "My stepmother fainted, and I gotta go get my dad, but somebody needs to stay with my little sister. She's been sick, and staying in my room, so Rowanne can get some sleep. Can you look after Sassy?" The woman shook her head, almost looking confused, then her expression cleared. At the same time, she smiled. . .a real smile, one that made her look more like somebody's mum or grandmother.

"Of course I can, dear. Go. Get your father. I'll look after your sister," M replied. Sabrina mutely indicated her own room, and M murmured, "So that was why she was in your room. Because she's been sick, and your father wanted to make sure your stepmother had a chance to rest. Very well. Go tell your father what happened, and mind that he doesn't try to carry her downstairs himself." Sabrina didn't wait for further instruction. . .just ran for her dad.

* * *

Alec Trevelyan was not asleep. His head was pounding, and though he lost consciousness earlier, then woke up, he couldn't go back to sleep. Not until Rowanne came back downstairs. It wasn't just that he didn't like sleeping without her. . .he was worried about her. He noticed a few times during her narrative that she almost seemed like she was trying to shake off dizziness. M didn't notice, he didn't think, and James was too busy trying to glare him to death to notice. . .but Alec did. He knew his wife.

There was a frantic knock at the door, then Sabrina hurtled into the room before he even had a chance to tell her to come in. She blurted out, "Daddy, Mum's fainted!" Alec was out of the bed and heading for the door as soon as the words were out of his daughter's mouth. And this time, he didn't even bother putting on his robe. Sabrina ran ahead of him to the staircase, taking the stairs two at a time.

Alec traveled at a slightly slower pace, his head throbbing in time with his racing heart. At the top of the stairs he found Matthew Tate kneeling beside Rowanne. The raven-haired operative looked up and said, "She's still unconscious, but I can't find anything wrong with her. No broken bones, and I don't think she hit her head. No, boss. . .let me take her downstairs. I don't want to run the risk of you taking a header down the stairs while carrying her."

Damn. He bloody well hated it when people made sense like that! But Alec nodded tersely, because he had no desire to see harm to come to his wife because of his own stupidity. He did enough of that already. Matthew gently scooped Rowanne into his arms as the door to Sabrina's room opened and M stepped out. She said softly, "Anastasia is still asleep. . .none of the noise disturbed her. You are a very good big sister, Sabrina Trevelyan."

Alec looked at his daughter in slight surprise. She blushed and said, "It was Matthew's idea, but I got Mrs. Mawdsley to look after Sassy while I came to get you." She gave a little shrug, as if what she did wasn't really important. Alec put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close to his body for a one-armed hug. It came as a surprise, then, when Sabrina slid her arms around his waist and asked, "You'll take care of her, Daddy?"

"Of course I will. . .it's my job to take care of her. Your job is done, Bree. Your sister is asleep. . .go on back to bed," Alec replied, his arm tightening around her and dropping a light kiss on the top of her head. Bree returned the favor, tilting her head back to lightly kiss his cheek. Then she released him, thanked M with a look, then went back to bed. The door closed quietly behind her, and Alec told the woman, "She'll thank you properly in the morning."

"There is no need. I am partly responsible for her stepmother's collapse. . .it's only right that I do something to make up for that lapse. I am sorry for what happened here tonight, Mr Trevelyan. I was warned about it, but unfortunately, I underestimated 007's irrationality where you're concerned," M replied quietly. She paused, then asked, "You truly do care for her, don't you? However it started. . .you came to love her?"

"I did. . .I do. I've been out of the spy game for nine years. I work behind the scenes now. And I'm really not interested in rejoining MI-6. I have a family. . .my wife and daughters. Rowanne and I would like to have more children. I want a better world for them. . .but I'm taking a different path this time," Alec replied. He knew why they were here. His dreams were a warning, as he feared.

But M just replied, "That may be discussed another time. I think you might be surprised both at what we offer and what we want from you. For now, take care of your wife. All other discussions may wait until after she's well once more." Alec eyed the woman suspiciously.

But she was right about one thing. MI-6, and their reason for invading his home, would wait until his wife was all right. Alec spared her another glance, then nodded to Matthew Tate. He scooped Rowanne into his arms, drawing a muffled sound, then cradled her against his chest. Tate started down the stairs, Alec following him. The head of Janus didn't bother looking behind him to make sure that M went back to her room.

There was no point. There were two other guards in the hall. They would see to it that she wouldn't cause trouble. Not that he really expected her to do so. . .she had her chance while she was alone with Sassy. She didn't take it. Alec's own attention was directed to the man in front of him, and the unconscious woman he was carrying downstairs. Her adrenaline level crashed. That was his best guess.

They reached the bottom stairs and Tate carried Rowanne into the master bedroom. As he placed her gently on the bed, she woke up, murmuring, "Alec?" The blond man circled around Tate to sit beside Rowanne on the bed. He thanked Tate with a glance, and the taller man nodded, then slipped quietly from the room. Alec turned his attention back to his wife when the doors closed behind the ex-Marine. Rowanne whispered, "What happened?"

"You fainted. And now, we'll finish what we started before we were so rudely interrupted," Alec replied, pausing to look at the clock, "two and a half hours ago." A faint smile touched Rowanne's mouth and Alec caressed her cheek, whispering, "You scared me half to death, Rowanne Justine. Don't ever do that again." In answer, his wife just patted the other side of the bed, where he slept. Alec crawled over, then drew Rowanne into his arms.

"Mmm. You didn't carry me, did you?" Rowanne asked sleepily. Alec rolled his eyes, but kissed her hair lightly as he breathed, 'no.' His wife was satisfied with that as she curled up against him, seeking both warmth and comfort. Telling the representatives of MI-6 what happened between them all those years ago took a lot out of her. Alec held her closer and she sighed. He thought she was asleep, until Rowanne murmured, "Would you sing to me, Alec?"

"Would I sing to you? Well, what would you like me to sing?" Alec asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He actually had a good idea. There was one song that Rowanne loved, because she thought it suited the two of them so well. It was sung at their wedding, by one of the few female operatives within Janus. And Alec had to admit. . .she was right. It did suit them quite well.

"Silly. You know what I like," Rowanne mumbled. She was drifting back to sleep, and while Alec wanted to believe she was all right, he would feel better after a doctor saw to her. Tomorrow. She was drifting back to sleep, but she was having a hard time letting go. Her fingers moved lightly across his chest and stomach. Alec inhaled sharply, before covering her hand with his own. That was enough of that for right now!

"All right, but no more wandering fingers. You must rest, Rowanne," Alec warned. She nodded, her hair moving against his shoulder, and Alec took a deep breath. The pain in his head eased a little during the last few minutes, allowing him to focus. He began to sing the lovely _All I Ask of You_, from _Phantom of the Opera_.

There was a soft sigh as Alec finished, then Rowanne murmured, "Love you, Alec." A second later, she finally let go, relaxing against Alec's side. He kissed her hair lightly, then closed his eyes. _Not this time, Raoul_, he thought, _this time, of her own free will, Christine remains with Erik_.

* * *

He spent three quarters of an hour, checking his room for escape routes. There was the window, of course. . .but that wasn't an option he really wanted to consider. All right. No escape routes. Just the door to the adjoining guest room. M's room.

"You really should get some rest, 007. I have it on good authority that what we shall see and hear tomorrow will be quite. . .unpleasant," M said quietly, looking up from her laptop as James Bond entered the room through the adjoining door. Her face was pale and drawn, and somehow, James had the sense that the email she just read was the reason. She paused, then added, "Sit down, James. There are things you must know."

The use of his given name surprised him into doing as he was told. He sat down on the edge of the bed, eyeing his superior with some trepidation. None of this was making any sense to him, and he hadn't felt this confused since discovering that Alec was very much alive, nine years earlier in St Petersburg. He murmured, "None of this makes sense. What does he get from her? He must be using her."

"Is it so difficult to believe that he loves her, 007?" M asked quietly, folding her hands in her lap. The commander stared at her in astonishment. Love? Did she really believe he loved that girl? She never met Alec before, how could she think she knew him? There was absolutely no possibility that Alec Trevelyan loved the woman he married, because he was not capable of love. Only betrayal.

"Try impossible. In the first place, he isn't capable of loyalty, much less love. . .and in the second place, he doesn't even _like_ Americans," Bond returned. M raised her eyebrows at him questioningly, and much to his astonishment, she actually smiled at him. A real smile, not one of her condescending smirks. A genuinely amused smile, one that warmed her face and made her appear far more. . . human.

"He has no need to like Americans. . .only one or two. His wife and his daughter, who is an American citizen, by virtue of her American mother and her birth on American soil, namely Puerto Rico. Three, actually, if you count Jack Wade. And while I have always worked with numbers, I do know a few things about the capabilities of men like Alec Trevelyan. He is a man of opposites. . . from the deepest love comes the deepest hatred," M answered. She paused, then added quietly, "And I know he loves her. I saw it in the hall while you were casing your sleeping quarters for an escape route."

"What about his older daughter. . .the one who pulled a water pistol on me?" James grumbled. He ignored her last statement, for he heard a thump and didn't bother to investigate it. In truth, he was still thoroughly disgusted with himself over that incident involving the water pistol and Alec's oldest daughter. He was a professional, for God's sake, he should have realized far earlier what that thing was! And it scared the bloody hell out of him, to think he might have shot an innocent girl, whose only crime was being Alec Trevelyan's daughter. M, damn her, looked even more amused at this reminder.

"Sabrina is Canadian, born and raised in Toronto. You see, 007, for severalweeks, two of your fellow agents have been conducting an investigation. It started as an investigation into the terrorist Custos," M explained. James shifted a little further onto the bed, having the uneasy sense that his world was about to be turned upside down. Yet again. And he wanted some stability before he received another shock.

Once she was satisfied that he would remain still during this conversation, M continued, "Investigation into his associates led 006, Sebastian Miller, to a Russian scientist named 'Ivan Orlov." James grimaced at the mention of the young man. He wasn't especially proud of the way he treated the agent. . .God knew it wasn't his fault that his immediate predecessor was incompetent. . . nor was it his fault that Evan Tudor's predecessor was Alec Trevelyan.

But Sebastian's sense of humor reminded him too much of Alec's, especially in the early days, right after the pair met. Before too many missions turned Alec's humor into a dark thing, and too much like Bond's own. He and Alec made such a good team because they were different in as many ways as they were alike, balancing each other out. At the same time, Sebastian was a very different kind of agent from both Alec and James.

"What does Orlov have to do with anything?" he asked. He was a double-oh agent entirely too long to think he was simply mentioned. Custos. . .another terrorist taking a Latin name. He just hoped it wasn't another former MI6 agent. And Orlov. . .wait. Orlov. He knew that name. Why did he know that name? James closed his eyes, focusing on the name and on the memory. Yes. That was it.

It was his and Alec's first mission together, after Alec made double-oh status. They destroyed one of his labs. James took particular glee in destroying the lab after discovering Nazi paraphernalia scattered about the room. Alec, if he remembered correctly, kept a look-out. M said softly, "Orlov fed information to one of our people, for the expressed purpose of leading you and 006 into a trap. Sebastian Miller, though somewhat shy and still uncomfortable with guns, is an excellent researcher. He tracked the _good_ doctor from Arkangelsk to St Petersburg, and that is where he discovered the first records of Orlov's monstrous experiments."

Experiments? Bond's blood ran cold. He thought back to what Rowanne Trevelyan told them, and M said gently, "Once Sebastian realized what he had, 002 instructed him to return to our archives, and go through the photos and files sent to us by the Russian government after Goldeneye was terminated. They didn't realize that Alec Trevelyan was Janus, but they were suspicious of him. 002 wanted Sebastian to find someone who didn't belong, someone who wasn't Ourumov or Onatopp."

"Rowanne Bramwell," James said without any real question in his voice. M nodded, and James continued, "And that is how you found Alec. By tracing Rowanne Bramwell's footsteps from St Petersburg, to Cuba, to Puerto Rico." Again, M nodded, and James asked, "Why tell me this now? Why didn't you tell me sooner?" This time, his supervisor actually laughed, but there was no mirth in the sound.

"Because, 007, where Alec Trevelyan is concerned, you never listen. Where Alec Trevelyan is concerned, you are as deaf and irrational now as you were nine years ago. When 006 came to me with his findings, I started my own investigation. Independent of the one conducted by 002 and 006, because I knew. . .I realized that 002 remained fond of Mr Trevelyan. However, as usual, he was a step ahead of me. He had the evidence already. All of the evidence. He wanted to come here with 006, but I convinced him to let me do this," M replied.

He was a double-oh agent. Pledged to the service of queen and country, but right now, he felt like the boy he was when his parents were killed in a climbing accident. Just like his grandparents were. Through the ringing in his ears, James asked, "The evidence? That this Orlov conducted experiments on 006. . .on Alec. . .after capturing him at Arkangelsk eighteen years ago?" M nodded slowly.

James squeezed his eyes shut. But the images paraded through his mind. Alec on his knees, with the gun pointed at his head. Alec slumping to the ground after the pistol was fired. Alec unmasking himself as Janus, nine years earlier in St Petersburg. Alec as he last saw him before tonight, hanging upside down, held in James' grasp. No. No, he couldn't believe this. He couldn't accept this.

Before Arkangelsk, Alec had been his best friend, the little brother James always yearned for. And, he remembered, Uncle James liked Alec as well. That was what made his betrayal so devastating. M said softly, very softly, "Every word she said was true, James. She made none of it up, she lied about nothing. In 1986, Alec Trevelyan was captured and tortured by Ourumov and Orlov. When he refused to turn, Orlov broke him by erasing his memories. They erased the reset directive, and they erased God only knows what else. Even now, his memories are spotty."

James raised his eyes to look at her, and his supervisor said, sympathy painfully clear in her eyes, "I was just sent information from 002. Or rather, just found the information. He sent the files while we were landing. It's all there, James. I tell you this not to make you feel guilty. It was not your fault. . . you could have done _nothing_ to save Alec Trevelyan eighteen years ago. But we need him now, and I need **you** to stop antagonizing his wife. Even when she antagonizes you."

"I need to think," he said hoarsely. M nodded, her eyes impossibly compassionate as James returned to his own room. He needed to think. He was a double-oh agent, trained to deal with everything from torture to impending world destruction. But one thing he never learned how to do was how to react when he failed to protect a friend. He didn't know if he could ever trust Alec again. Too much happened between them. But. . .if he had been smarter. . .he could have saved Alec. And none of that would have happened.

* * *

The seeds of doubt were planted. M knew James Bond too well to think this would be the end of it. He would not believe what Rowanne Trevelyan told them tonight, not until he saw it with his own two eyes. Perhaps not even then. Right now, he was tired and his defenses were down. But in the morning, after a good night's sleep. . .ah, things would be right back where they were when Bond saw the Trevelyan family photos.

And that was one reason why M agreed to the act of faith requested by Rowanne Trevelyan. James Bond would need to see what was done to Alec Trevelyan before he finally accepted the truth. And even then. . .it would be a long time before trust was regained on both sides. Looking into the younger agent's eyes tonight, M saw that Alec blamed them a little for what was done to him.

He likely knew, in his mind, that they believed he was dead. He knew, in his mind, that rescue wasn't forthcoming. But in his heart. . .in his heart, he wanted to believe that they would come for him. Yes. Yes, Alec Trevelyan did blame them. . .he knew it was irrational, and he would probably never admit it. But he did blame them. M returned her attention to her email from Moneypenny.

Over the years, she and Kathryn Moneypenny developed a rapport totally different from M's relationships with everyone else in MI6. It was easier. . .Kit Moneypenny didn't often go into the field. And thus, it was far easier to relax with her. It would be a misnomer, calling them friends. More like allies and sisters-in-arms. However, the tone of this email was very personal, and the tone was set in the first line.

_'Lady B. I used my personal account, because I wanted to inform you of certain things in an unofficial capacity. First, and most importantly, 006 and 002 will be joining you within a day or so. While I did not make the travel arrangements, it seems that Sebastian has ignored the message on the coffee mug that he bought me for Christmas last year_ (here, M grinned impishly. The aforementioned coffee mug read, 'She who knows everything.'). _Of course, it hurt not one bit that I overheard the gentlemen discussing their plans_.'

M rolled her eyes. Honestly, there were times when she thought all of her double-oh agents were overgrown children! William Pryce-Meecham and Sebastian Miller were among her two most sensible agents, and even they had childish moments. On the other hand, Q told 007 at least one time before the beginning of each mission, 'Oh, grow up, 007!' She couldn't recall ever hearing him say such a thing to Sebastian.

Kit continued, '_I also learned from listening to the aforementioned conversation that Alec Trevelyan is alive. Alive, and not the traitor we thought him to be. I know. . .he did such terrible things as Janus, but he was not entirely himself. I must warn you, Lady B. . .James will find this entire situation difficult. He will never acknowledge it. . .not to you, not even to himself, unless he's well and truly pissed. But he loved Alec dearly, as I did. . .all three of us were only children, and we both adopted Alec as our brother_.'

M grimaced. Yes, that was something she learned during her conversation with 002 and 006. It was, in fact, the one thing that 002 requested. 007 was to be kept out of their conversation. He was an excellent agent. . .but there were certain tender spots to avoid. Then they dropped the bombshells on her. First, telling her that not only was Alec Trevelyan alive, but he did not turn willingly. She knew that he was alive. But the second revelation prompted her to conduct her own investigation.

Sebastian Miller was known to have a fascination with Alec Trevelyan, because they both were 006. There was probably more to it than that, but M allowed the boy to keep his secrets. And 002. . . despite the old man's attempts otherwise, there were few in MI-6 who didn't know that William Pryce-Meecham loved Alec Trevelyan as the son he never had. She needed an objective perspective.

To that end, she assigned 004 and 008 to investigate. Unbeknownst to her, the pair were the ones who helped with the original investigation. They investigated the remains of the Janus base in Cuba, and they sent back emails regarding the experiments conducted on Trevelyan. They also told her where she could find the rest of the notes, including one set of notes in particular. . .and they directed her to Decryption.

In the end, M's investigation was less an investigation, and more re-tracing her agents' steps, making sure no evidence was compromised. She didn't like doing such things. But she was fooled by Elektra King years earlier, and it not only cost her friend his life, but it almost cost her life, and James Bond's life as well. She would not allow such a thing to happen again. Barbara Mawdsley loved Elektra King as a surrogate daughter. That was why this investigation had to take place.

She was grateful, remembering that conversation, that they did insist on keeping 007 out of the meeting. M knew now that Sebastian was right in his estimation of Bond's capacity to listen and accept. He had the makings of a very good agent, young Sebastian Miller. He needed to get past his discomfort with firearms, but that would come with time and experience. She was more worried about his lack of killer instinct.

_On the other hand_, she thought, _perhaps he hasn't been placed in that situation as yet. I daresay that ten years ago, or even five years ago, Rowanne Bramwell also lacked that killer instinct. It took losing her sister before she found that killer instinct within herself_. For there was no doubt whatsoever in M's mind. If it became necessary to kill all three of them tonight, to save her husband and children, Rowanne Bramwell Trevelyan would have done just that. And that gave her hope for Sebastian Miller.

She turned her attention back to Moneypenny's email. The younger woman explained, '_It may become necessary to keep them separate. No doubt, when 002 and 006 arrive, they can help. The entire incident involving Goldeneye devastated James. And even once he learns that Alec did not betray us willingly, he will not allow his guard down. Alec will understand this. But, I do not believe Sebastian will. He has become very protective of Alec, and will not understand the depths of the betrayal on both sides_.'

That was true. M also was concerned about Trevelyan's young wife. While she understood that trust would take time to build trust, on both sides, M discovered tonight that she was ferociously protective of her husband. . .as protective, in fact, as he was of her. She defended him vehemently, going so far as to slap Bond's face when he dismissed the ordeal her husband underwent while a prisoner of Ourumov and Orlov. And if Bond had no reason to trust Trevelyan, the man's wife also had no reason to trust Bond.

Kit's email finished, '_Please let me know when they arrive. When they get back, I plan to talk to them about making their own travel plans. They did not ask me, so you would not know that they were coming. Perhaps I should remind them when they return that I am your secretary, indeed, the secretary for all of MI-6. I know everything that goes on. Yours, KM_.' M canceled out of the window, grinning from ear to ear.

She would answer that email later, and encourage her secretary to do so. But for now, Barbara Mawdsley had a great deal to consider. The following day-once Rowanne Trevelyan woke up-M, 007, and Charles would witness the atrocities committed against Alec Trevelyan while he was a prisoner. That was the act of faith Rowanne Trevelyan wanted. Before they dismissed her husband for breaking under torture, she wanted them to see what was done to him. . .and then judge him, if they dared.

* * *

He should have been asleep a long time ago. Rowanne was nestled in his arms, sleeping peacefully. Full circle, in a way. Alec reached up and caressed the line of her jaw, feeling her soft breath against the palm of his hand. He kissed her hair again. She mumbled something and shifted in her sleep. Her palm slid down his body, and Alec gulped. He would have held his breath, but his racing heart would have definitely awakened her then. 

He never truly allowed himself to think about Goldeneye. Kept the clear memories from that time period locked away, because it was too painful to even consider. He could deal with the other Janus memories. But Goldeneye. . .that was different. Just as Rowanne was different. His memories of Rowanne, though he was ashamed of how he brought her into his life, were among the few memories he wanted to keep (all except the memory of threatening to shoot her. Damn Janus!).

Had he truly done all those things to James? Alec shuddered. Sometimes, when he allowed himself to think about Goldeneye, about what he did. . .it was so surreal. Like. . .like falling that distance, before he hit the satellite cradle. Or his fight with James beforehand. He had a vague memory of standing over James, stepping on his fingers and telling his chosen brother, '_I was always better_.'

As if he was a spoiled child, telling his brother, '_Mother always liked me best_.' Alec rubbed Rowanne's back as she shifted in his arms, but the gesture was as much for himself as it was for her. A bit like her habit of stroking his hair. He remembered that from the migraines. He also remembered it from the days after he woke up.

Alec frowned, thinking about the migraines. He had no migraines since he regained consciousness. It was Wade's considered opinion, after hearing what Rowanne had to say, that his migraines were caused by the chemicals they pumped him with. . .it made sense. For the longest time, he thought the migraines were the result of his memories, his real memories, fighting to come back. But now that he thought about it, Wade's explanation made sense as well. The human body often rejected foreign material.

Transplants, for instance. How many times did he hear about a transplant patient dying because of the patient's body rejecting the new organ? Who was to say that his body wasn't rejecting the injections? He had such strange dreams, of people with him. . .people bearing syringes. Sometimes, the face accompanying the syringe was Ourumov. . .sometimes it was James. And sometimes. . .

There was someone else, but when Alec reached for the memory, it vanished like fog on a summer morning. He knew James wasn't there. No. He wasn't there. One of the ways that Ourumov tried to break him. . .and this was a memory that became clearer each time he saw James, was trying to trick him into thinking that James was among the men beating him. Alec knew better. He. . .

_Oh my God_. If he could predict James' every move, then once the shock of Alec still being alive wore off. . .James should have been able to predict his moves. But he couldn't. Not because James was less of an agent, but because it wasn't Alec making the moves. It was Janus. Janus who had Alec's memories, had Alec's knowledge. Just as it was Janus who kissed Natalya Simonova. The answers were there, all along!

Alec closed his eyes and tightened his arms around Rowanne. It was silly, of course. There was no need for him to protect her. She was safely asleep, dreaming of lovely things. Maybe the first time they made love, after he regained consciousness? He hoped so. He knew it was the final piece of the puzzle for him. It was the final piece that allowed Alec Trevelyan to be reborn, and gave him the strength to fight Janus.

Rowanne was safe now. Safe in his arms, safe in her dreams. He wasn't doing it for her. He was doing it for himself. He needed to hold her close. She was the only part of Goldeneye that made any sense to him. Why? Why were those memories untouchable for him? Why was that the only thing. . . why was she all that was untouched by what was done to him at Arkangelsk? She and Cassandra both?

In a way, Rowanne reminded him of Cassandra. They were around the same age when he met each of them. Cassandra, he remembered, was nineteen. And Rowanne was twenty-two, but while she was two years chronologically, she seemed the same age. Cass had dark blond hair, much like his own. Dark-blonde hair and blue-gray eyes. Their daughter had her mother's eyes. That was the first thing he noticed when he met Sabrina.

Physically, the two untouchable women in his life had nothing in common. Cass looked like a china-doll. . .delicate andbeautiful. Rowanne was. . .

How did he describe her? Only people with limited imaginations would describe her as nondescript. And one thing Alec always possessed was an imagination. He shifted slightly, just enough to look at the woman in his arms without waking her. How did he describe her? He could tell someone about the color of her hair, the color of her eyes, the shape of her face. But he could never quite explain what he saw when he looked at her.

Cass looked like a china doll. But Rowanne couldn't be explained so easily. She was always there when he needed her. . .was secure enough to lean on him when her own strength failed. . .and she had love enough for him, for Sassy, for Sabrina. And, he had no doubt that she had love enough for another child. He asked her a few times, if she wanted more children.

He did. He wanted another child. He missed so much, in both of his daughters' lives. He missed watching his daughter grow inside her mother's body. He missed feeling her move under his hand. He missed seeing her come into the world. Her first smile, her first word, her first step. And each time he asked Rowanne if she would have more children, she just smiled, cupped his face in her hands, and whispered, 'when the time is right.'

There were times when she was better at keeping things a secret than he was. And considering his former profession, that worried him. That worried him a lot. Rowanne stirred in his arms unexpectedly and Alec ran his hand down her back once more. She murmured, "'M sorry, Alec." She was awake. He thought. Sometimes she talked in her sleep, but usually when she did that, Alec had no idea what she was saying.

"Why are you sorry?" he asked softly. She brought none of this on them. In his mind, he knew the only ones truly responsible were Ourumov and the other figure in his dreams. But in his heart, he blamed himself for being so weak. He blamed James for leaving him there, even though James believed he was dead. But not even in his heart did he blame the woman in his arms, because she and the girls were total innocents.

"Let Bond get me," came the reply. Alec closed his eyes. It never even occurred to him, that she might feel guilty about that. But she wasn't a trained agent! He taught her how to fire a pistol, and she was a good shot. But he didn't train her to be an agent. He trained her to defend herself and the girls. If there was anyone at fault, it was him.

"Not your fault, sweet girl. Bond is one of the best, and you don't know how to anticipate his moves _(as I do_). Go back to sleep," Alec murmured, opening his eyes once more. He stroked her back and kissed the top of her head. It was his fault, not hers. She was right to go upstairs with him, to watch his back. . .but she couldn't very well watch his back from in front of him, now could she? No, she couldn't. Rowanne sighed, her body relaxing once more.

There was a gentle knock at the door. Frowning, because everyone should be either asleep or at their posts, Alec beckoned his visitor into the room. It was Dylan, one of the two pilots who flew Alec to Puerto Rico nearly ten years earlier. At his side was Charles Robinson. Dylan said quietly, "Sorry to bother you, Janus, but he wanted to talk to you. Said it couldn't wait until morning."

"Thank you, Dylan. Wait outside, if you will. Give us no more than fifteen minutes, unless you hear sounds of a struggle," Alec requested quietly. The pilot nodded and slipped outside, leaving the two men to stare at each other. Sizing each other up, for lack of a better term. After a moment, Alec said, "You'll forgive me if I don't move. I don't want to wake my wife, not after finally getting her to sleep. What is it that you wanted to talk about, Charles?"

"I believe you," Charles Robinson stated bluntly. Alec felt his eyebrows lift, and the other man continued, "It wasn't anything you said. . .anything your wife said. It wasn't even anything that M told me on the way. It was you. The way you reacted when 007 grabbed your wife's wrist and held his gun to her head. You didn't react as an agent. You weren't thinking as an agent. . .but as a husband afraid for his wife."

Yes, he did. He _was_ a husband afraid for his wife, but he was an agent once. 002 would kick his bum for this, if he ever found out. Charles shook his head, asking, "What happened, Alec? Is it being away from MI6, away from whoever did this to you?" Alec shook his head. He didn't know. Was it what Charles said, the years away from the spy business? Was it the shock of seeing James Bond in his house, holding a gun on Alec's wife? Ten years earlier, he would have fired a shot into the floor, just enough to startle Bond. He probably would have grazed Rowanne with a bullet, a flesh wound.

Charles continued, "But that was what convinced me, once I thought about it. James. . .he hasn't allowed anyone to get close to him since you. Natalya came the closest, but losing you hurt." Alec knew that. He knew he did that to James. Charles added, his voice gentle, "Is it so difficult, Alec, to just accept that you were just as much a victim as James or Natalya or your wife?" The blond man opened his eyes and looked at his old friend. Once, this man was part of his family. He, James Bond, Kit Moneypenny. William Pryce-Meecham.

"I was a double-oh agent, Charles. We aren't victims. We do the dirty work. We protect. But I let those bastards turn me into a weapon. Someone has to take responsibility, and it might as well be me. I can accept that Janus isn't the same as me, but I still bear responsibility," Alec answered. He sighed, seeing the sadness in the other man's eyes, and added, "Charles, MI6 has found me. It's only a matter of time before those who created Janus find me as well. I can't ask this of your M, and I certainly can't ask Bond. But I can ask you. When they come. . .will you help me to protect my family?"

"Side by side, brother. . .side by side," Charles vowed, stepping up to the bed and putting his hand on Alec's bare shoulder, the one not currently occupied by his wife's head. Charles looked at her, adding softly, "Just so you know. . .if it was Amelie. . .I'm not sure if I could have taken the shot, either." For some reason, that comforted Alec. Charles smiled down at him as Alec covered his hand with his own.

After a moment, Charles said softly, "Tomorrow. . .I'd like to remain with you. Would that be possible?" Confused, Alec nodded. Charles squeezed his shoulder, adding softly, "This is all I will ask of you." All I ask of you. His wife's vow to him, her vow and her plea. Alec's arms tightened around her. He was asking Charles to protect a woman who didn't fully trust him. What Charles was asking in return wasn't so much. It wasn't anything at all.


	7. Unpleasant Truths

Reviews! Well, first a quick author's note, regarding reviews. If you have a request, or an idea, or a suggestion, by all means. . .say so! They help me, make me look at things differently. There's only one instance where I don't welcome a request, and I'll explain that later. For now, on with the reviews.

Diamond77: Thankee, me dear! By request, here is Natalya! I intended to bring her into the story a little later, but after you made your request, she told me what she wanted to do. She's my favorite Bond girl. . .though I also like Jinx and Wai Lin. Hold on, because the butt-kicking starts in the next chapter.

Iolana (chapter six): Yup, now you know about Cass and Bree. No, can't really blame James for not believing. Poor James. Poor Alec. I thought you might like the explanation for Alec wearing black. . .it seemed appropriate. And I agree. . .I thought Alec blaming MI6 was very human. Even though he knew it wasn't really their fault, he still blamed them. It's very fortunate that the Trevelyan home is so big. The place is getting real full. As for William and what Alec remembers. . .well, just wait and see. (I know, I'm evil) I'm actually working on that possibility, with regards to the memories that Janus could access memories that Alec couldn't. Make poor Alec even more of a prisoner in his own body than he already was. I'm not sure what I'll come up with, but I'm working on that. Heh. . .I'M looking forward to seeing where this is going!

Iolana (chapter five): (rueful laugh) If you can call that a romance! Those two have the most screwed-up courtship of anyone I've ever seen. Not even Luke and Juliet in my _Dust_ fic, _Calling the Wind_, have such a weird courtship. And those two are anything but orthodox. Between those two couples, they make Ian and Jocelyn (_National Treasure_) look downright normal in comparison. Yeah, the family does get tossed from one crisis to another, but they've had a relatively peaceful life for the last nine years. . .Alec just figures everything is hitting at once. And M. . .M is writing herself!

Bea: Welcome! I'm so glad you're enjoying this! And I'm glad you liked the _Phantom of the Opera_ reference. I'm a sucker for characters like Alec and Erik. Alec, Erik, Ian. . . Alec. . .Imhotep. . .Alec. Oh. Sorry. By the same token, I also love Boromir, Odysseus, and Ardeth Bey. But the POTO reference seemed perfect for Alec and Rowanne, especially with Alec's scars after Arkangelsk, and the way things started between him and Rowanne.

Caught in the Game Again

Chapter Six

Unpleasant Truths

The boy was sleeping. Well, he was entitled to it. Over the last few weeks, after Sebastian realized that Alec was. . .not himself, the young agent put in countless hours. William found as he grew older that he slept less and less. Wasn't that strange? Perhaps not so strange. He was seventy-two years old, and he wouldn't live forever. There was still too much he wanted to do before he joined his brother.

First and foremost. . .he wanted to see Alec again. He wanted to see the son that was denied to him. He wanted to beg his forgiveness for not protecting him better, for not telling him the truth, for. . . William sighed. While he now knew that Alec made his decision before Arkangelsk, if he would remain loyal to England, he still felt guilty about not telling the boy everything before he found that damn file.

And that file. . .William wanted to wrap his hands, aged as they were, around the scrawny neck of whoever sent that file to Alec. What did they gain from it, aside from breaking a young man's heart and tearing out his very soul? Did they gain some sort of sick pleasure? Whoever deposited that file inside Alec's door eighteen years earlier, did they watch and wait from across the street, taking pleasure in his grief and rage?

In a way, William hoped so. Then he would have even less compulsion about breaking that someone's neck. This person hurt someone William loved, and there would be no forgiveness for that. He would be sorely disappointed if this someone was dead. He was too old to take down Orlov or Custos (there was a connection there, William could _feel_ it). But there were others who ill-treated his Alec.

William would have been lying if he said he wasn't angry on a professional level as well. He was. Someone at MI-6 betrayed them all. Someone went into Files and saw to it that Vesseney Denisov's only living child received that information. Someone in MI-6 cost the agency one of its finest. But the greatest portion of his anger was the anger of a father who was robbed of a son. A father who was unable to protect his child.

Vesseney Denisov. Alec's birth father. William realized that there was much about the man he didn't know. But, he couldn't help asking. . .why did he place a dead child over a living one? In those weeks before her death, did Anna Denisov realize that her husband's grip on his sanity was slowly slipping? When she carried the sleepy three-year-old Alec into his bedroom for his nap, did she realize she was saving his life?

_Why did you do it, man? Would you have killed Alec as well_? William knew that when Vesseney murdered his wife, then committed suicide, he gave William his son. Unfortunately, long years passed for Alec between the murder-suicide of his parents and the beginning of University. During the war, many children were sent to Ireland, to Scotland, to Cornwall, to protect them from the bombings in London.

The orphanage where Alec grew up was run by good people. But even in 1962, it was still recovering from the war years. They simply did not have enough people to love the children, as well as take care of their physical needs. Alec learned to hide his loneliness behind a protective mask, and a shield that surrounded his heart. But when he arrived at MI-6, and met James Bond. . .the first dents in the armor appeared.

William followed a few months later, and it seemed to the older agent while reflecting years later that Alec latched onto a father figure with a ferocity that bordered on desperation. Did he know in his heart that this man would care for him, far beyond what he needed to know as an agent to stay alive? It was anyone's guess what Alec knew. He was unpredictable, even before Orlov and Ourumov got their claws into him.

He was eager to please William, at the very least. He wanted to be good, he wanted to save the world, and he wanted to protect people. He absorbed every bit of information, every lesson, from William and from James Bond. And in spite of the need to remain objective, necessary because of their line of work, it took very little effort on Alec's part to make both William and James love him. As well as others. . .Kathryn, Emma Moneypenny's young niece, for instance.

As the years passed, Alec's vulnerability grew less obvious. It was necessary, if he wanted to protect others. He understood, as they all did, that they did the dirty work. They protected the general public not just from the monsters who sought to do them harm, but from knowledge of those monsters. There was an American television show that also aired in the UK in the 1990's. _Babylon Five_. William was fond of that show, because the Minbari reminded him somewhat of MI-6. 'We are the Grey. . .we stand between the candle and the darkness.' Or something like that. Besides, he always thought Marcus Cole would have made one helluva MI-6 agent!

Sebastian shifting and moaning a little brought William's attention back to the present. In another three hours, the plane would land in San Juan, Puerto Rico. Two hours after that, he and Sebastian would be at the Bramwell-Trevelyan compound, the new Janus headquarters. In five hours, he would be reunited with his former student. But for now. . .for now, he would look after Sebastian. The pretty young flight attendant whispered, "Can I help with anything, senor?"

"Everything is fine, my dear. . .the boy has been working nonstop on a project. Thank you for asking, though," William replied. She smiled and continued on her way. William drew the blanket up once more around Sebastian's shoulders, gently patting his forearm. He said softly, "Sleep well, my boy. Sleep enough for both of us." He wanted to believe that Alec would forgive him. Only time would tell. Only time would tell.

* * *

She wasn't in the habit of leaving her friends in the lurch. . .on the other hand, they weren't scheduled at MI-6 until the end of the week. It was Monday now, and that gave her plenty of time. She had to know for sure. After overhearing the conversation at the MI-6 headquarters in London only days earlier, she had to know for sure. Even now, nine years later, Janus still haunted her nightmares.

She had to know. Was he really alive? She shuddered. No. No, that fall must have killed him. No one could have survived that, not even Janus. But for the sakes of those who died at Severnaya, for the sakes of those who might have been killed if his plan worked, she had to know for sure. The young woman stared out the window, biting her lower lip. She was not the same person she was then. She changed. She knew that.

How could you live through something like that, and not change? She was twenty-five years old when Janus and Xenia Onatopp upended her world. She was proud of the work she did at Severnaya, but after Goldeneye, it wasn't enough any more. Not after the friends she lost, not after what she saw and experienced as a prisoner and as a pawn. It wasn't enough. She had to do something more. . .she had to make a difference in a more meaningful way. She was a damn good computer programmer, she knew that.

She outwitted Boris, didn't she? He thought she was so stupid, but she outwitted him. It was James who realized she wanted something more, and directed her to M. And for the last nine years, with her best friend, Tania Denver, she kept the MI-6 computers running properly with the programs they created, then set up. And with the specter of Goldeneye forever in her mind, she tried to find a way to counteract the electromagnetic pulse. Possible? Probably not, but she wanted to try.

James. It always came back to James. James, whom she loved and hated at the same time, and found absolutely nothing strange about it. Perhaps she should have expected it. No matter how much James cared for an individual woman, his true devotion was, and ever would be, to Queen and country. She knew that, and still it hurt. He cared for her. . .she knew that. But he could never be true to any one woman, because Britain was his mistress, his wife, and she was a jealous lover indeed.

And she could never think of James, not without thinking of Janus as well. Janus was not just a criminal syndicate, not just the leader of that syndicate, but it was Janus and James combined, because in some ways, they were two sides of the same coin. They were friends once, until Janus betrayed James. . .and James killed him for it. Not just for what he would have done to England, not just for what he did to Severnaya. But for James. Because of what that betrayal did to him.

It rattled her, years later, to think about the ramifications. A betrayal that wounded James so deeply. . . She went to Kathryn Moneypenny. . .Kit. . .her friendly rival for James Bond's affections, and the source of most of what she learned about MI-6 after making the deal with M. And Kit confirmed what she believed. They were very close, James and Janus. Like brothers. Perhaps even closer, because it wasn't often that brothers risked their lives for each other.

Brothers-in-arms, then, and that, in some ways, was far more potent than brothers by blood. James had loved Janus. . .or as he knew him then, Alec Trevelyan. . .as a brother, with the same ferocity that he loved his favorite mistress, his favorite lover, his favorite wife. And from such betrayed love came the most intense hatred. James could not forgive himself, not for seeing the truth sooner.

And now, she was hearing that Janus was alive. She couldn't begin to imagine how James felt. After all this time, she knew James well enough to realize that in his mind and in his heart, he hadn't killed Alec Trevelyan nine years earlier in Cuba. He killed Janus, someone quite different. It was anyone's guess if the Alec Trevelyan whom James knew even existed, but so far as James was concerned, Alec Trevelyan died eighteen years ago in Russia.

Which told her, in her heart of hearts, that there was still a part of James that mourned his little brother, who still loved Alec Trevelyan, the charming young MI-6 agent Kit spoke of. It was that part of James which she feared and loved most. She feared it, because James would be hurt once more, if the rumors were true and Janus was alive. How many times did that monster have to die, before he left James in peace?

At the same time, it was that part of James which reassured her. . .he could still love. And that was why she kept returning to him, even after he broke her heart countless times. He could love. . .she just didn't know if he was brave enough to do so. Men were such strange creatures. They could blow up things without a second thought, but when it came to the far more messy reality of love, they were like scared children.

Several seats behind her were two MI-6 agents. One, William Pryce-Meecham, was technically retired. He was one of the grand old gentlemen of the agency. . .one of the first agents given double-oh status. A handsome, stately old gentleman in his early seventies, he was forced to accept early retirement in the 1960's, following an injury and to make room for the younger agents coming in.

But he was still invaluable to MI6, as an instructor. It was he who trained both James and Janus when they were neophytes to the spy world. He, and the inventor Q. But she distrusted him, because he was the one spreading the lies that Janus wasn't truly responsible for what he did to her friends and co-workers. If he spouted some nonsense about Janus being misunderstood, she might forget his age and strike him.

His young companion, Sebastian Miller, was in far more danger. He was close to Natalya's age, and she had no need to worry about accidentally injuring him. He was the reason the older agent believed that it was right, to try to absolve Alec Trevelyan of his crimes. Try to clear his name. . .try to convince James that he was wrong? How could they do that? They weren't there at the time, they didn't see what she saw!

James would need help. And she was still angry with him. . .she couldn't begin to say how angry she was with him. But he would need help, because he would be ambushed. She told Tania to start without her, if it came to that, but she thought she would be back in plenty of time. There was something she needed to do. Since she covered for Tania's absences, her friend encouraged her to do what needed to be done.

And now, here they were. On a flight across the Atlantic Ocean, bound for Puerto Rico. She wasn't entirely sure what she would do, once they landed. While she was far more capable of taking care of herself than she was nine years earlier (and she certainly had her moments at that time), there was still a great deal she didn't know. For one, she wasn't sure how she would follow the two spies, without them realizing it.

She shifted her mind to that problem. Switch focus, to keep your focus. And the problem of following an experienced, albeit retired, spy without giving away her own position. . .oh, yes, that would be quite the challenge indeed. While James taught her a great deal about self-defense that she didn't know, she never learned the trick of stealth. She was a computer programmer, not a spy, but if she wanted to protect James from his own people, she would have to learn how to be a spy very quickly.

The worst part of her situation, too, was that in other conditions, she would have liked Sebastian Miller a great deal. But knowing what she did, and living through what she did. . .how could she forgive what he was trying to do? She was lucky to escape with her life. A little ingenuity and a lot of luck saved her life in Severnaya, when Xenia Onatopp came to investigate the noise.

"Hello, my dear. . .come to watch James' back?" a voice asked. She froze, then looked up to find William Pryce-Meecham standing in the center of the aisle. He smiled at her almost paternally, adding, "Don't be too harsh withyourself, child. I was a double-oh agent long before you were born. Since you wish to make sure we are not being led into a trap, would you like to accompany us to the Bramwell-Trevelyan compound?"

Natalya Fyodorovna Simonova looked up at the man with a sigh. Well, that would take care of one problem. She had no choice to trust him. . .just as she had no choice but to trust James all those years ago. She nodded slowly, and William sat down beside her, saying quietly, "That's an excellent choice, my dear. Here are the ground rules, for I think you need to understand a few important details. . ."

* * *

One thing he never lost, even away from MI-6 and his former profession, was his internal clock. Alec knew when it was time to get up. He had no need of an alarm clock. This was true for one other reason. . .unfailingly, when it was time to get up in the morning, his wife would wake him. This held true today as well. Alec finally drifted off to sleep around two am, after talking with Charles Robinson a little longer. 

Charles warned him that James would not be easy to convince. He was telling Alec nothing that he didn't already know. Worse yet, Alec knew he couldn't blame James. . .if even a third of what his memories were true, regarding Goldeneye. Even though James kept escaping from the traps set for him, because Alec wanted him to escape, because Alec wanted him to stop Janus. . .it didn't matter. Even at the end of their conversation, Charles still couldn't understand why Alec couldn't accept that he was a victim as well. It just wasn't that easy.

His old friend maintained that Alec was a pawn, just like James. However, he didn't seem to understand that Alec's hands were blood-stained. How many people died because of him? He was no victim. Yes, his memories were scrambled, and yes, he wasn't totally in control of himself. But that was no excuse. Alec was still struggling with his rage when he went to Arkangelsk. He let Ourumov and his pet scientist do this to him. This happened because he let his control slip. Not again. Never again.

He wasn't a victim. He left himself open to manipulation. . .it was his own weakness that allowed this to happen. He wasn't a victim, he wouldn't let himself be a victim. He would take responsibility for his weakness, and he would make sure it never happened again. This meant he had to make sure Rowanne and the girls were protected, no matter what MI-6 wanted of him. Alec was in the spy business too long not to realize a few unpleasant truths.

First, as he told Charles, if MI-6 had found him, it was just a matter of time before those who created Janus did the same. When that happened, Ourumov's pet scientist might harm Rowanne and Alec's daughters. He could not permit that to happen. Rowanne was the one good thing that came out of his years as Janus. And odd as he thought it, he could sense the part of him that remained Janus didn't want anything to happen to Rowanne, either.

He fell asleep, still holding his wife. For the first time in three weeks, his dreams were not of fire and death and a seemingly-endless fall through the air. He dreamed, instead, of things that never happened, in a world that might have been. He dreamed of growing up with James Bond, as his real little brother. He dreamed of meeting Rowanne under better circumstances. He dreamed of holding Sassy moments after she was born. He dreamed, too, of Sabrina, the daughter he knew not well enough and too well indeed.

It wasn't the mid-morning sun that awoke him, but his wife's lips caressing his torso. There was almost a pattern to the way she operated when she woke him up. Her lips against his skin, breathing his name and '_wake up_' as she moved down his body. He always had to mumble an '_I'm awake_' after she passed his navel. The further she moved down, the more difficult it was for him to pretend he was asleep.

This morning was no different. Alec moaned, "I'm awake, Rowanne, I'm awake," as her mouth came dangerously close to his nether regions. He heard. . ._felt_. . .her laugh, and she made her way back up, lips brushing each rib, before she kissed the hollow of his throat. Now he did open his eyes, and found her smiling down at him. He reached up, caressing her face, and murmured, "Serves me right for marrying a woman thirteen years my junior."

"Hmm," was her only response as she leaned forward to kiss him. Her very cute bum was resting across his hips, and Alec knew his wife too well to think that was an accident. Sneaky child. He put his hands on her waist. As ever, her hands were strategically placed on either side of his head. Because of Alec's phobia regarding restraints, she never held his wrists while she drove him to ecstasy. He couldn't stand being pinned. Images would flash through him, memories buried too deeply for him to access them, perhaps.

All he knew was the wave of sheer, blind terror that would crash over him if his arms were restrained. He nearly hurt Rowanne once, when she tied his wrists to the bed posts with silk scarves, just as he did to her years earlier. She was being playful, and had no idea he was so terrified of being restrained. He didn't know either. Alec panicked, and when reason returned to him, his arms were free, and Rowanne was backed up against the wall, looking terrified out of her mind.

She whispered his name, and he mutely held out his hand. Rowanne bolted across the room, throwing her arms around him. He didn't know who was comforting whom, just that they wrapped themselves in each other and held on for dear life. His mind was drawn away from the past as Rowanne kissed him again, and deepened the kiss until they were breathless. She rocked back, her bum brushing a few key parts, and sent Alec's heart racing. Damn her. . .she could always get a rise out of him. In more ways than one.

"I hate it when you do that," he gasped. She just smiled, a feral little grin that did the most incredible things to his insides. Rowanne once told him that his smile should be registered as a lethal weapon. Perhaps he should tell her that her own smile was just as devastating to him? Or not. No sense in giving her more ammunition against him. He had to have some secrets of his own, and flinched. He had entirely too many secrets of his own. That was what almost got him killed. . .that, among other things.

Rowanne must have noticed, because she swooped in to claim another kiss. Alec surrendered willingly, until common sense reasserted itself, and he broke the kiss, gasping, "Rowanne! You haven't caught up on your sleep, and you fainted last night!" That was it. That was what was bothering him, even as his wife's kisses made him daft. He needed their doctor to take a look at Rowanne, and make sure she wasn't sick.

"I'm fine, you dolt! I slept another eight hours, which means," Rowanne answered, and paused to kiss the side of his neck. Alec closed his eyes, trying not to react to her proximity and the warmth of her body. Rowanne, however, was having none of that, and added as she switched sides, "which means, I am now up to seventeen hours of sleep. . .only seven hours remaining, and I can always catch a nap later."

Calling upon restraint he had thought lost, along with his edge, Alec caught her arms before she could kiss him again and said quietly, "I'm worried about you, Rowanne. I just want you to rest, and then see the doctor. I want to know, for sure, that you didn't get sick while you were taking care of Sassy." Her eyes softened and she gently freed herself to cup his face in her hands. Alec could easily deal with anger. . .but tenderness always shattered his defenses.

And her tenderness was always Rowanne's greatest weapon. All she ever asked of him, truly, was love. She didn't desire power. She just wanted to be with him. She was a complex woman. . .but she was also a very simple woman, with very simple needs. Rowanne needed to be loved, but she also needed to be needed. She spent the first twenty years of her life, feeling superfluous. That wasn't something he ever experienced. Never in his life did he feel superfluous.

'Superfluous' wasn't a word that he would have considered, in regards to his wife, but. . . Something Charles told him stuck in his mind._ You say that you sought to destroy her innocence, and maybe that's true_, his old friend said, _but you know what I see when I look at her? I don't see a victim. I see a woman who has found her purpose in life, and that has completed her. Whatever you did to her, Alec, that's something that you did **for** her_.

Rowanne said softly, "Alec, I promise you. . .I'm fine. I'm not sick. I was just exhausted, and worried. When the adrenaline high crashed, so did I." That was an explanation Alec could believe. But. . . Rowanne put her hand on his chest, forcing him to look at her. Really look at her. She said quietly, "Alec, this is me. Rowanne. I'm not the one who pretends to be fine. I don't do that. And sitting up with my sick daughter for three nights running does not qualify. I don't like being sick, you of all people should know that. And if I neglect my health, I _will_ get sick."

Alec caressed her cheek, murmuring, "How many times did you take care of me, after I woke up? How many times did you protect me while I was comatose? Is it so hard to believe that I want to take care of you, Rowanne? You mean everything to me, and I've done a miserable job of protecting my family to date." She rolled her eyes again and swooped in for yet another kiss. . .but this time, she kissed his right temple.

Alec closed his eyes, and she kissed each eyelid, saying softly, "You need to stop worrying so much. We aren't invincible, I know." _I am invincible_! Why did those words sound so familiar to Alec? Dark laughter rang out mockingly in his memories, and Alec shuddered.Janus was driven away by another of Rowanne's kisses as she continued, "But you are not the only one protecting this family."

He opened his eyes to look at her. While she told him often that she loved him, Alec could never bring himself to say the words. He could answer in the affirmative when someone asked him if he loved Rowanne. . .such as M, the night before. But he couldn't tell her. Perhaps it was his past, when such words were so utterly meaningless. Instead, he told her, "I'd die for you. . .you know that, don't you? All three of you."

"I know. But it's just as important that you live for us, Alec. It's taken us this long to get this far. I don't want to lose you now," Rowanne replied. She squirmed, making herself more comfortable (and Alec more uncomfortable), then began stroking his collarbone lightly with her thumbs. She changed the subject, saying, "Xenia saved you, for reasons I think are obvious. But I still don't get why she saved me. She could left me there to die. That's what I would have expected, at least."

Yes, she could have. Alec spent most of that time unconscious, but Xenia's actions surprised him as well, when he heard Rowanne's story the night before. After his conversation with Charles and before he finally dropped off, he thought about what might have led Xenia to save them both. He thought he had an answer, but first, he had to keep himself focused. Hiswife had a tendency to play dirty when they were in bed. And her dirtiest tricks were the ones she learned from him.

"She was dying, I think, and didn't have the strength to bear me back up into the gunship. Xenia was a strong woman. But I think when she was caught in the parachute and pulled into the tree. . .don't look so surprised, Rowanne, I do read the reports. . .the impact broke several of her ribs," Alec replied once he could focus. In retaliation, his hands went to her waist, fingers lightly caressing her lower back.

Rowanne raised an eyebrow at this comment, and Alec had to laugh. It was, as Wade called it, her '_point being_?' look. Alec explained, "The broken ribs alone wouldn't kill her. But splinters from those broken ribs would have punctured a lung. She didn't have the strength to get me to safety. . . but you did. Xenia was a little strange. . .pain and violence excited her, even when it was done to her. It was a sexual thrill to her. I. . .you know my memories from Goldeneye are faulty. But one thing I do remember clearly."

The brunette didn't speak and Alec continued, "Bond confiscated a tank to rescue Natalya Simonova while we were in St Petersburg, and we rammed him with the train. The impact knocked me unconscious briefly, and it stunned Xenia. . .she may have been unconscious as well, I'm really not sure. But I do remember seeing a glazed expression as she got up. Not unlike your expression when I. . ."

Alec's voice trailed off as Rowanne looked at him, and he felt his face grow warm. Mercifully, however, Rowanne didn't comment on it. Instead, she said, "So, you think it was practicality on her part." Alec thought about it, then nodded. He flinched only slightly as his head protested the movement. Rowanne added after a moment, "I suppose it doesn't make much difference. It just confused me. She always had so little use for me, but at the end, she sacrificed herself to save both of us."

"She was dying, Rowanne, and she knew it. And she never tried to get rid of you, because she never believed you were a threat to her, to me, or to Janus in general. She enjoyed killing, yes. But. . .she wasn't stupid. She knew she didn't have the strength to hold me all the way back up into the gunship. I imagine she barely had the strength to hold you on the way down, and you're considerably lighter than I am," Alec replied. Besides, Xenia knew what Janus refused to acknowledge. . .that Alec cared for Rowanne.

"Humf. Not any more, I'm not," Rowanne pouted. Now that was a lie. Alec's hands glidedover her curves. Yes, she put on weight, but she had one child, and hopefully, they would have more. She was still considerably lighter, and she would likely remain so. His hands rested on her midriff, and his wife asked, her expression growing serious, "You really want another child? You realize, of course, given the boys-to-girls ration in my family and the way things have been going so far, that we'd probably have another daughter?"

"I want another child," Alec confirmed, "I was a prisoner when Cassandra was carrying Sabrina, and I was comatose while you were pregnant with Sassy. I can't get those years back, Rowanne. I want to see you big with my child, I want to feel that child move under my hands. And I really don't give a damn about having a son to carry on the family name." He stopped and flushed. He might have lost his edge as a double-oh agent, but he still wasn't used to speaking so frankly from his heart.

"And are you ready for the unpleasantness that goes along with pregnancy and bringing up baby? Are you ready for mood swings, for strange cravings, and me to turn into a blithering idiot? Ask Dylan what I was like while I was pregnant with Sassy. He was here. I even got a few of the Janus operatives to change diapers and feed the baby," Rowanne informed him. Alec couldn't help laughing, laughter that turned to a groan as she shifted her weight yet again.

Still, he managed to say, "Big, bad Janus operatives. . .completely unmanned by a little baby, I would imagine?" Rowanne nodded with a huge grin. Yes, he should have realized that. Janus operatives were trained to handle nearly any situation involving guns or explosives. But a baby? He wished they had pictures. He would have enjoyed seeing that. Alec continued after a moment, "I'm ready for it all, Rowanne."

"Hmm. We'll see about that. Because I can promise you this, Alec Trevelyan. We have another child, and you will be there for the delivery. I am **not** going through that alone again," Rowanne stated. Alec's hands slid around to her waist and he gently shifted her backward until he could sit up. Once he was upright, his hands left her waist to cup her face in his hands. He stared steadily into her eyes, and once he was sure he had her full attention, he spoke.

"You will _never_ go through that alone again. I promise you _this_, Rowanne Trevelyan. I will be there for the delivery, I will hold your hand, and I will let you scream at me to your heart's content, and never will I talk back. All right?" Alec asked. Rowanne stared at him for a long moment, then she nodded slowly. Alec sighed and allowed his head to rest against her shoulder for a moment. Her hand slipped around the back of his neck, gently rubbing her thumb against the top vertebrae there.

"All right. Alec, I really am fine. . .and right now, I want my husband. If you're still worried later, I'll see the doctor, but I want you to see her as well. Deal?" Rowanne asked softly. Alec's body was answering yes before his mind had a chance to catch up, but that was still enough to put the brakes on. She must have realized that while his flesh was willing, his spirit still needed some convincing.

Rowanne turned her head, ever so slowly, brushing her lips against his flesh and his hair. Alec trembled. Oh, he should have known she would do this to him! But even as his mind screamed at him to stop, his head was already turning to capture her lips. Her hands slid down his shoulders and arms to clutch at his hands, and she began pushing him down to the bed, fingers intertwining as they kissed. Somewhere in the back of Alec's mind, he knew that one day, it would be necessary to get over his terror of restraints.

But not today. No, today, Alec Trevelyan had other priorities in mind. Namely, taking care of his wife. Alec rolled over on top of her as he broke the kiss, and it drew a squeak from his wife. He loved it when she made that noise. It made her sound like a little girl. He loved most of the noises she made, however. Alec gazed down at her, whispering, "One other condition. You let me do the work. I'm in a mood to spoil you dreadfully, and I don't do it nearly enough. Do we have a deal?"

Alec turned the tables and nuzzled the side of her neck, the curve of her shoulder. That drew a breathy sigh, and Alec switched his attentions to the other side. This time, he added an incentive, stroking her thigh. Rowanne gasped, "I agree! I agree, I agree. . .oh." The sentence ended on a moan. Alec pulled back, quite pleased with himself. Her eyes were already glazed. They would be more so by the time he was finished with her.

"You. . .know. . .when you said. . .you wanted. . .to see me. . .big with your child?" she gasped as Alec began trailing kisses over her shoulders and collarbone. He made an assenting noise in his throat, and Rowanne continued, "That. . .oh. . .that has to be the sexiest. . .Alec." Just that. Just his name, gasped. Alec closed his eyes, adrenaline now pumping through his veins, making him dizzy and exhilarated at the same time.

He had to slow things down. Alec swore to take care of her, and right now, that meant ignoring his own needs. He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her to him, holding her tightly. Alec pressed a kiss to the side of her head. Her arms went around him in turn. Sometimes, when they made love, it was just like the first kiss. So intoxicating. . .first because of the power he derived from her innocence.

And now? The scales tipped while he was comatose and when he awakened, she was the one with the power. She could have told him what he did, and completely annihilated him. But she took care of him. In the beginning, she fed him herself. As he gained in strength, she steadied his hand. When he began walking again, he leaned on her. Now she intoxicated him because of her passion, her tenderness, her honesty.

Honesty. Alec spent the first thirty-six years of his life caught in one lie after another. The lies about his parents, the lies of his profession, then finally the lies of his imprisonment. In this woman, there were few deceptions. Only some secrets, and that he could live with. He had far too many secrets of his own, some of which he didn't even realize he knew. He would not begrudge her the secrets she carried.

* * *

"Ten dollars says she'll be asleep ten minutes after."

The speaker had his back to Matthew Tate, but that was no excuse. The ex-Marine told his young compatriot, "Don't tell me that you're betting on the bosses' sex life again." The two guilty parties swiveled around, both looking embarrassed. And rightfully so. Just because the boss had a camera installed in their bedroom didn't mean they had to watch him and the Lady Boss during their bedroom acrobatics.

Jack Wade, who was behind Matthew, added, "Yeah, you know you're not supposed to do that without me!" Matthew rolled his eyes and turned to glare at his immediate supervisor. Jack retorted, "What? Hey, it's not like watching porn! You can barely tell what they're doing! And Al did have us install that camera in their room!" Matthew rolled his eyes again and gestured to the pair to leave the security room, found in the basement of the manor.

"For security purposes only, Jack, not so we could watch him and Lady Boss do the horizontal mambo. The boss isn't Janus any more, in anything but name, but that doesn't mean he won't do some rather nasty things to you if he ever finds out. Hasn't he been violated enough?" Matthew demanded. Wade had the decency to look away.

They all saw the tapes that Robinson, the woman called 'M,' and Bond would be viewing today. They all knew what was done to Alec Trevelyan. They saw the footage, always when their boss was away. It was necessary, not to pity, but to understand the man for whom they worked. Matthew still had a hard time meeting Trevelyan's eyes. And because of that, he distanced himself from Lady Boss, as well.

That wasn't an option open to his immediate boss, and Matthew couldn't see how Jack could react this way. Wade muttered, "I still say Dozier's right, and she'll be asleep ten minutes after they finish. What the hell was she thinking last night? She should have stayed with Al, instead of trying to talk to Sabrina." Matthew didn't waste any more time. He just reached over and shut off the feed coming from the master bedroom.

"You're hopeless," Matthew muttered, watching the feed for the secret passage. He knew Lady Boss told their uninvited guests that she summoned help with the press of the button. The truth was, the door to the secret passage had a camera built in. . .with the same lever that opened the door. The lights and helicopter blades were simulated to scare the hell out of any intruder. Smoke and mirrors, baby. Smoke and mirrors.

Unfortunately, a newbie was on duty the night before and while he remembered to inform Wade about the intruders, he forgot to turn on the rest of the system. Which was why Matthew did it, before slipping out to join the rest of the Marines. There were times when having the barracks on the lowest level of the house came in handy. Not just when he was running late for security detail that day, either.

A motion out of the corner of his eye told him that Jack turned the feedback back on, and his boss said seriously, "I can't protect Al and Ro, if I don't know what's coming, Matt. You weren't here at the time, but I talked it over with both of them when the decision was made to put the camera in there. They don't like the idea of us watching. . .but Al likes the idea of being taken unaware even less."

Matthew couldn't argue with that point. They were silent for a long time. All three of their uninvited guests were up, and eating breakfast with their escorts, as well as Sabrina and Sassy. The woman was engaging the girls in conversation. . .well, she was engaging Sassy in conversation, while Sabrina seemed more focused on her food. But that was par for the course. The older Trevelyan daughter tended to be wary of strangers.

She was like that with everyone at first. Father, stepmother, sister, protectors, it didn't matter. Sabrina would have never asked the woman to look after her sleeping sister the night before. . .or rather, early this morning. . .if Matthew hadn't encouraged her. She didn't like the idea of asking a stranger to watch over her little sister, and especially not a stranger with someone as untrustworthy as she saw James Bond.

Matthew looked at the super spy with a thoughtful frown. Bond was in his late forties, perhaps early fifties, and he wore his age well. There were only hints of silver in his black hair, and he was just as quick on his feet as any young recruit. Right now, his eyes were narrowed as he in turn observed the Trevelyan girls. Almost as if he was expecting. . .what? For one of them to lunge across the table at them? With what? A pen?

Both girls were eating fruit. . .whole apples and whole bananas. There weren't any sharp objects within their reach, unless you wanted to count Sabrina's ever-present pen. Or maybe the man just wanted to know what sorts of girls these two were when they weren't worried about their parents. Sassy was happily chattering away with M, telling her all about her Aunt Corliss, who would be coming soon.

And without ever taking his eyes from Sabrina, Matthew noticed Bond's attention shift to the little girl as she told everyone at the table. Aunt Corliss was real pretty, though not as pretty as Mommy. Sabrina grinned when her little sister proudly announced to the table that no one was as pretty as Mommy. . .or as handsome as Daddy. Matthew almost laughed aloud as Bond almost choked on his beverage at _that_ statement.

However, both M and Robinson's expressions showed only interest as Sassy explained that Aunt Corliss was in graduate school, though the eight year old stumbled over the word 'graduate.' She was studying geology, and she would predict earthquakes when she was finished with school. Sabrina said softly that Corliss had a Bachelor's Degree in geology, and she was studying seismology now. Only to have Sassy retort impatiently, _that's what I just said_!

Sabrina just rolled her eyes, and Matthew tried not to laugh. It was far too entertaining, watching Alec Trevelyan's two daughters. Especially when their parents weren't around. By now, their father would have collapsed into a heap, laughing hysterically. . .most likely at Bond's expression. What,did he think that they talked about the spy business during breakfast? Idiot! Matthew almost snorted in disgust.

Ever so often, Sabrina would throw in an observation or a clarification for her sister's chatter. M would nod to her briefly, then return her full attention to the little girl. Sassy was thoroughly enjoying all the attention. She was too sick to enjoy her mother's care during the last few days, and the weeks leading up to her illness were spent trying to get the house ready for the coming visit from Corliss.

That was actually rather funny to watch, as Lady Boss worked herself into an absolute state, trying to make sure the house was presentable. It was the first time a member of her family came for a visit since before Diana's death nearly three years earlier. Diana was the only member of the family who ever visited. Matthew only met her once, about three months after the boss regained consciousness.

And after Diana's death. . .well, Matthew discovered that he preferred not to think about the rest of the Bramwells. He could tolerate Lydia and Corliss, but he really hoped he never found himself in a dark alley with their mother. Never mind what Lady Boss said, he really had to go with M on this one. Matthew was taught to respect women. But after what Christine Bramwell did to her daughter, not just once but repeatedly over the years. . .he hated her with a passion. How any woman could say she loved her child, and yet work so hard to make sure she had no self-esteem. . .Matthew just couldn't comprehend that. And what kind of father would allow that to happen?

At least she still had them. . .especially Wade. Even if he did watch at inappropriate times. Though Matthew often gave his boss a hard time about it, he knew that Wade didn't focus on the couple, but around them. The windows, the doors. If Alec and Rowanne Trevelyan were in danger, they had to know. That was their job, that was their purpose. The Janus operatives did their jobs. . .the security detail did their own.

Wade muttered something under his breath and shook his head, saying much more clearly, "What did I tell you? She's out like a light. Probably the only reason Al agreed. . .he knew it would wear her out." In spite of himself, Matthew looked at the monitor in question. Wade was right. Rowanne Trevelyan was curled up securely in her husband's embrace, and from the looks of it, she was sound asleep.

He smiled at Wade, saying, "Fifty dollars says the boss lets her sleep until after noon." Wade looked at him suspiciously, then a broad grin spread over his face. The older man extended his hand to Matthew, taking the bet. They shook on it. Two things they knew. . .one, Alec Trevelyan would make sure his wife got the rest she needed. And two? About half an hour before she woke, their boss would ask them to get a meal ready for her. It was their job to take care of this family. . .and take care of them, they would.

* * *

If there was one word to describe James Bond's morning thus far, it was 'surreal.' First, he woke up, wondering why he believed M's assertions the night before. Alec Trevelyan couldn't be trusted. He fooled them all once. He would betray them again, but James wouldn't allow that to happen. He was a double-oh agent, and it was his calling to protect queen and country. Not his job, not just his career, but his calling. 

He showered, and when he emerged from the bathroom adjoining his room, he found a change of clothes on his bed. Provided by Jack Wade, according to the note left with the clothes. James dressed, then joined M and Charles Robinson in the foyer. There were several awkward moments, as the Trevelyan sisters were also out of their room(?), but then the younger girl, Sassy, smiled brightly and skipped over to take M's hand.

"C'mon," the little girl said, "it's time for breakfast. But we gotta be real quiet. Mommy and Daddy are still asleep. Mommy was up for three days, taking care of me after I got sick, and Daddy's real worried about her." Rowanne Trevelyan was up for three days, taking care of her sick daughter? Where the hell was Alec? Sassy added after a moment, "Do I gotta call you 'M' when I talk to you? That's a silly name."

"No, my dear. Only my agents call me 'M.' Little girls, and not so little girls, need not do so," M replied, nodding regally to Sabrina Trevelyan as the five headed downstairs. M continued, "You can call me 'Miss Barbara,' if you like. Kit, my assistant, calls me 'LadyB' sometimes. And Sassy, why did your father not help take care of you while you were so sick?"

"Because he was helping me with a science project due after the break. We wanted to get as much of it done, so I could enjoy my vacation from school. Rowanne was supposed to help as well, but when Sassy got sick. . .well, she promised me that she would make it up to me later. Knowing Rowanne, that probably means something totally unexpected," Sabrina replied dryly, "one thing I know about my stepmother. . .she likes to think outside the box."

James grimaced. That was certainly one way of putting it! Charles said unexpectedly, "That is probably part of what drew your father to her. . .over and above her innocence, as he told us last night. Alec always liked to think outside the box. It drove M's predecessor utterly mad, but 002 always encouraged him."

Yes, there was no need to remind James of _that_! Sassy asked curiously, "What is double-oh two? Is that like calling Miss Barbara 'M,' or how Grandpa Jack sometimes calls Daddy 'Janus,' when he wants Daddy to listen to him?" They were almost to the kitchen now, and sleepy-looking operatives were coming out. There were smiles for the two young girls, and guarded nods for the three MI-6 representatives.

"Something like that, yes, dear. You see, in order to protect our agents, we refer to them as numbers. Your father's code name is 'Janus,' and your mother's is 'Juturna,' since she's his wife. When he worked for us, his number was double-oh six. Just like Commander Bond's number is double-oh seven," M explained. James frowned, not sure if he liked the idea of these girls knowing so much about MI6.

Especially when Sassy Trevelyan glared at him again, and said, "I don't like him. He hurt my Daddy." James rolled his eyes. Not only were there females indifferent to his charms, but they seemed to be over the age of sixty and under the age of eighteen. This was borne out a moment later, when Sabrina Trevelyan put her arm around her sister, smiling at him almost maliciously. Then again, perhaps it was just the Trevelyan girls.

Charles cleared his throat, answering, "Actually, Anastasia. . .I struck your father last night. I have since apologized to him." James stared at the other man with his best '_et tu_?' look. Charles merely maintained eye contact with James for a long moment, then deliberately broke contact and looked at the two girls. He continued, "My name is Charles, and I used to work with your father. I hope we can be friends again." Sassy stopped and stared at him hard.

"You're sorry you hurt my daddy?" the little girl asked fiercely. M was looking at everyone and everything except Bond, but even so, the agent could see her smile. She was actually amused at this. Of course she was. . .at their first briefing, she called him a misogynist dinosaur. She would be thoroughly amused by the knowledge that there were some women whom he couldn't charm. . .even if they were young girls. Not that he was 'interested' in Sabrina Trevelyan. Good God, no! He had his standards, and seventeen year old girls were trouble, even when they weren't Alec Trevelyan's daughter!

"Very sorry. Especially since he was d. . .especially since he was protecting your mum when I hurt him," Charles replied. Protecting her mother. James thought of pressing the gun to Rowanne Trevelyan's temple, remembered Alec aiming a pistol at his own head. And for the first time, he wondered. . .why didn't he take the shot? Sometimes, it was necessary to wound the hostage, in order to save the hostage.

So why didn't Alec take the shot? _Janus would have taken the shot. Alec would have taken the shot, back when I knew him best. Or, at least, when I thought I knew him best. Why not now_? There was only one possibility that he could think of, and he wasn't willing to consider that. It simply wasn't possible. M said, distracting him as she helped Sassy into a chair, "Up you get. What do you girls usually have in the mornings?"

"Just some fruit on the weekends, if Dad and Rowanne aren't up yet. If they're up, Dad fixes breakfast. Especially if he's feeling especially mushy, and wants to take her breakfast in bed. But just fruit is fine. Oh, thanks, Kurt. Okay, Sass. . .let's go through the list we made. Grandpa Jack is picking Aunt Corliss up at the airport, check," Sabrina said, looking over a notebook that a young operative just handed to her.

"Do you do this often?" M inquired as she efficiently stripped the banana given to her by Sabrina Trevelyan before the notebook was handed to her. Sabrina looked up inquisitively, and M continued, "This is your spring break. I would have expected you to be doing something else." Bond tried to remember how old her children were now. . .they were teenagers when she first took over as M, nine years earlier.

"Rowanne takes care of everyone who lives here. . .Sassy and me, Dad, the Marines, the Janus team. I help her by keeping the lists. That keeps us all organized, and keeps things from getting too chaotic. Like now, since we have three. . .guests. . .we didn't anticipate having," Sabrina replied. There was a hard glint in Sabrina's blue-gray eyes as she stared at James. The agent tried to ignore her, however.

"Yes. . .of course. Is this the first time you've met Rowanne's sister Corliss? She spoke of her last night, after all," M asked. Sabrina made a notation as she bit into the pear she chose, then looked up with a frown. M continued, "What I mean is, I've heard your stepmother talk about her youngest sister, and you refer to her as 'Aunt Corliss,' but I would think that having guests here would be dangerous."

"Yeah. Aunt Diana was the only visitor we've had, and that was before I came. No, I know Aunt Corliss through phone calls and emails. Well, pictures too. Aunt Diana sent pictures of the family before she was killed, and Rowanne has them set up in her office. No, you saw the computer room, not Rowanne's office. The computer room is for her and Dad," Sabrina replied.

"Mommy has her own office, 'cause Daddy says she needs her own space. He told her that it was a special closet, then had it decorated and took her in there for her birthday," Sassy said with a proud grin. Sounded more like Alec's lies, though it was for his wife's birthday. Not the same thing as faking his own death, then being reborn as the leader of a crime syndicate.

"It was listed in the blueprints as a huge walk-in closet. My dad decided that it would work better as an office for Rowanne. And since Sassy and I already chose our bedrooms at that point, Dad knew the bedroom attached to the closet. . .intended bedroom, I mean. . .would be empty. So, he had it decorated it. . .the walk-in closet. . .with Rowanne's favorite pictures and office furniture, then turned that bedroom into a library instead," Sabrina observed.

She smiled, adding, "The office was for her birthday. . .her thirtieth, I think. . .the office and the library. There was room left for a few bookshelves in the library, so Dad had two curio cabinets made as anniversary gifts, then put Rowanne's dragon collection in one, and her dolphin collection in the other." The girl shook her head, laughing softly as she continued, "I don't think I've ever seen Rowanne smile like that, since then."

"Well, I'm sure that Rowanne will smile like that again, since her sister will be here. Tell us more about Corliss," M invited. _Yes, please do_, Bond thought sarcastically, _I'm certain she's just like her sister_. He bit back a surprised yelp at the sudden pain in his shin. . .especially after M gave him her best disappointed headmistress look. And unfortunately for him, she was quite good at those.

If he was psychic, there was no doubt that he would have heard her say, '_pay attention, 007. . .not to your own grudges, but to what these girls tell you. It may be important_.' The worst part was, he knew she was right. But every time he looked at these girls, he saw their father. And as Sassy began telling about her Aunt Corliss, James realized with a sick feeling in his gut that he would have to talk to Alec. One on one.


	8. Seeds of Doubt

A quick announcement. . .this may be my last update for a while. I'm leaving for a Hawaii in (checks calendar) a little over three weeks. I'll be visiting my younger brother, whom I haven't seen in two years. I will **try** to get another chapter out before I leave, but there are ten other stories I'm working on, and I _really_ need to update those. I will be taking my laptop with me, so I'll work on stories when I'm not playing with my nieces and nephew, and playing tourist.

Oh yes, and _Gargoyles_ doesn't belong to me.

Reviews!

Alleymap: Hello, m'lady. . .not sure when you'll get here, but here is your note anyhow. I'm glad everyone seemed like themselves. . .I particularly had fun writing M's comments regarding Q. And the girls just sort of wrote themselves. They tend to do that. Then again, they are their father's daughters. And poor James. . .he really doesn't know how to deal with any of this. It was great to see you back!

Terreis: Trust me, Melanie, you were a huge help. Just listening sometimes is the biggest help. I don't know when you'll get here, but here's your note as well. You have a bit of catching up to do, but not much more than you did with _Calling the Wind_. Yes, I'm becoming quite fond of Sebastian myself. He is, as you said, both very good-looking and very bright. The list of 'poor. . .' is about to get a lot longer, too, I'm afraid.

Ashti: Yes, _please_ don't get yourself fired on my account! This would not be good! I'm afraid you're right. . .originally, I planned to do three short stories, explaining the back history. However, Alec had other ideas. We went 'round and 'round. . .and I lost. I should expect that by now. However, the history lesson is mostly past, with odd flashbacks. . .I hoped to get into the kick-butt part this chapter, but the guys (and gals) had other ideas.

Diamond77: Natalya in MI-6? Uhm, not really, no. She's actually more like a civilian contractor. She and her partner Tania provide the same service to the Russian government as they do to MI-6. Life-like dialogue is preferable, of course. . .but I also want to avoid too much realism, in terms of people talking. It would be too jarring if I did that. As for why Alec Trevelyan is so special, to me and so many others. . .that's a little harder to explain. I'll need a few chapters to think of an explanation that will make sense. It's like trying to explain where my ideas come from. . .they're just there.

Nomi-clawskull: Here's a new chapter! Hope you enjoy it!

Caught in the Game Again

Chapter Seven

Seeds of Doubt

He slept for a time. . .but as usual, nightmares awoke him. Nightmares were common during the night, but not when he slept during the day. Alec was grateful, however, that Rowanne was sleeping so deeply, he didn't awaken her this time as he jolted awake. He lay still for several moments, taking comfort in hearing her breathe, feeling her heartbeat, and in the warmth of her body next to his. Took comfort in these reminders that he was alive.

It was a new dream. The night before, once he fell asleep, he dreamed of living a different life. . . raised as James Bond's brother, meeting Rowanne under different circumstances. The dream he just had was a horrible corruption of that more innocent dream. As in the previous dream, he was raised as Bond's younger brother, and grew up calling the previous 007 'Uncle James.' Something he always wanted to do when he first met both James Bonds. And he did meet Rowanne under different circumstances. . .

. . .Just not better. Somehow, a fourteen year old Rowanne Bramwell and her five year old sister were held hostage in Arkangelsk, making absolutely no sense in the waking world, but whoever said dreams had to make sense? In order to save the two young girls, Alec offered himself as an exchange. Himself for the children.

When his younger brother didn't respond to his calls, James came out to find Alec on his knees before Major Ourumov and surrounded by several dozen Russians. The American teen stood off to the side, tears running down her face, her little sister hiding behind her legs. Aside from those two details, nothing had changed from the events of the day Alec Trevelyan started on his journey into hell. Until the moment when, in reality, Ourumov fired the gun.

When it became clear Ourumov would severely injure, if not kill, the young agent, little Corliss Bramwell darted out from behind her sister's legs and ran to save Alec. She never got there, because Rowanne grabbed her, spinning both herself and the child around, until her back faced the men with guns. But it didn't matter, because that was all the distraction Alec required. He went for the knife strapped to the back of his calf, and plunged it into the major's chest.

James took advantage of this distraction as well, and began to fire his machine gun, picking off the men who were guarding Alec only moments earlier. At the same time, he called, "Alec! See to the girls!" Alec lunged to one side, narrowly missing a blast to his chest. He scrambled over to where Rowanne knelt with her little sister. Corliss was sobbing. Except it was no longer Corliss, but Sassy.

Not the child who was no doubt eating lunch right now. . .but the four year old girl he met upon awakening from his coma four years earlier. And. . .it wasn't the fourteen year old Rowanne holding the girl tightly, but her grown-up counterpart. She cried out, "Alec, behind you!" Alec spun around, expecting to see Ourumov upright and very much alive. Instead, it was James who stood there, smiling coldly.

He aimed his gun at Alec's torso, saying, "You betrayed us all, Alec. . .now, you have to die." The roar of the gunfire merged with Rowanne's scream as agony tore through his chest and gut. Alec awoke then, trembling. Where did that come from? Well, yes, he realized that James wanted to kill him. . .but this seemed more like a memory to him. He heard those words before. 'You betrayed us all, Alec, and now you have to die.' But where? Who said that?

He shook his head with a bitter smile. And which betrayal would that be? Alec lost track of how many betrayals there were. It sometimes seemed that the only people he didn't betray were his wife and daughters. . .and not even that was true. In some ways, he betrayed them most of all. Alec lightly kissed Rowanne's dark hair, then pushed off the bed, heading into the bathroom. He desperately needed a shower.

First a shower, then head to the kitchen. Rowanne would be starving by the time she woke up. . . and even if she wasn't, Alec was. He turned on the shower, remembering to check this time for the towels. Yes, there were enough. The last time he awoke before Rowanne and took a shower, he forgot to check. . .and found himself drip-drying. Not an experience he really wanted to repeat. On the pleasant side, at least Rowanne didn't laugh at him too much. And there was the fringe benefit of having her warm him up.

Alec grinned in spite of himself. Yes, having Rowanne warm him up was always a good thing. He stripped, kicking his clothes over toward the dirty clothes hamper. A quick check told him that the water was about the right temperature. With a quiet sigh, he stepped into the shower, allowing the water to pour over him. He tilted his face up to the spray, barely stifling a groan as the water worked its magic on his tense shoulder muscles. The shower was Alec's favorite place to think. No interruptions. . .unless, of course, his wife was with him. At which point, all bets were off.

No interruptions, just Alec and the water. And the water didn't judge Alec. He had a great deal to consider. While the events of GoldenEye were still vague, more of his memories came back when James Bond re-entered his life. He remembered more of that last mission as well. He could feel the hard cement floor under his knees, bruising his flesh. He remembered James muttering that it was too easy.

He remembered screaming at James to finish the mission, to blow the bastards to hell. It sickened him that he was twisted and warped to the point that he would actually blame James for doing what had to be done. James did the right thing, the only thing he could under the circumstances. What happened to him, that he would blame his friend for doing his job? Alec shook his head, blinking as water ran into his eyes.

Everything led to one conclusion. Sooner or later, he had to face James. Sooner or later, hehad to find out, once and for all, which of his memories were true. James was the only person who could answer those questions. The best time to do that was right after he got out of the shower. . .while Rowanne was still asleep. Alec knew his wife, and he knew she would try to stop him. She was, at times, overly-protective of him.

It touched his heart. . .but this time, she couldn't protect him. He washed his hair, quietly planning how he would approach James. Alec knew he would have to be careful. Charles already warned him of that. But it had to be done. As Alec began soaping his hair, an image flashed through his mind. Not an image. . .a memory. His first mission as a double-oh agent. He was keeping watch, while James did their job inside.

They were taking out a scientist. The scientist had ties to several neo-Nazi groups in Europe, and word got back to MI-6 about his experiments. The man wasn't there, but they made sure that putting his work back together would be a lot more difficult in the future. At least, James was. . .Alec found himself facing ten men at once. To this day, he was still ashamed that he only managed to take out seven, instead of all ten.

The last three managed to leave him in a world of hurt. When James emerged, it was to find Alec nearly unconscious, and at the mercy of those three remaining thugs. Alec fought to remain awake, especially after his partner called his name. Only seconds later, James was lifting him up from the ground. Alec focused on him, rasping, "My apologies, 007. . .I only left three for you."

James had smiled down at him, replying, "No need to apologize. C'mon, lad, let's get you out of here. Only four minutes to detonation." Mindful of the rather colorful bruises already decorating Alec's body, James heaved him to his feet and dragged him to safety.

That was the first mission. Alec also remembered the last, but there were still missing pieces. He knew that he was captured during the raid on the weapons facility. What he didn't remember. . . what taunted him, even now. . .was the truth of that capture. He made the decision, while he was in Scotland, what he would do about England and the deaths of his parents. But Alec couldn't remember what that conclusion was. . .what that decision was.

That was part of the reason he needed to speak with James. If he could get James to tell him what happened, what was said, what was done. . .maybe he could figure that part out. This, of course, brought him right back to the previous question. How he could approach James, and get him to tell Alec the truth. He knew James had no reason to trust him. But he knew of no other way to find out what was happening.

At length, he realized that he was turning into a prune,and turned off the shower. Unfortunately, remembering what his wife said the previous night, he still felt dirty. He reached for a towel. . .only to find, he was no longer alone in his bathroom. He was dripping wet, naked, and James Bond was currently pointing a pistol at him. The first words out of his mouth weren't a quip, nor a request for a towel, but, "What did you do to my wife?"

"Nothing. . .she's sound asleep. So, she was up seventy-two hours straight while the little girl was sick?" James asked. It sounded like an accusation, but Alec ignored it. Instead, he nodded quietly and reached for a towel. Slowly. So Bond didn't get any crazy ideas that he was reaching for a gun. The bathroom was one of the few places Alec didn't have a gun. Maybe after this, he should think about putting one in here.

"She was. There were a few times when she would start to fall asleep, but. . .people woke her up. Usually by accident," Alec replied, quietly drying himself off. He thought briefly about making a smart-ass remark regarding his state of undress, then decided not to push his luck. It was entirely possible that Bond would shoot him. Instead, Alec continued, "What is it that you want?"

"Answers," was the unsurprising response. Alec sighed and wrapped the towel around his waist, then knotted it. James asked, shaking his head, "What is your game, Alec? What are you playing at, what's the prize this time? Destroy the world economy altogether? Why are you married to her? Hmm?" Alec didn't answer at first, reminding himself that James had every right to distrust him.

He reached for a second towel to dry his hair, and said quietly, "Believe as you will, James. Hate me, if you like." What else was there to say? Proclaim his love for Rowanne? James would never believe him. There were times when Alec didn't believe it himself. He didn't deserve it. . .any of the good fortune that came his way when he met Rowanne Bramwell. He didn't deserve to love her. . . didn't deserve her love.

"Nice try, Alec. Play the victim. You've convinced M and Robinson, and your wife. But I know you better," James replied. Alec didn't answer. Instead, he continued to dry his hair, his eyes never leaving James. The other man asked, "What? No pithy comeback? Now, that does surprise me. You were never without something to say, Alec." The words seemed hauntingly familiar. He would have closed his eyes, but he didn't dare around Bond.

At last, he replied, "I'm not a victim. I betrayed my training when I allowed them to break me. I let them take me alive. I've paid for it, too. In ways you can't imagine. I hear things in my mind. I can't tell what's real and what's not. Just now, you questioned why I didn't have a comeback or a quip ready, and it sounded familiar. But I have no idea why."

James stared at him for a long time, and then said quietly, "Because you said that to me in St. Petersburg. Nine years ago, when you revealed yourself to me as Janus." The words struck Alec hard, a hammer blow to his chest, and he actually staggered backward. There was a roaring in his ears. Janus whispered just below the surface, and Alec shoved his dark side away. _No_. No, he would never again be a prisoner in his own body.

When he could at last look at James, the other man was staring at him, and he murmured, "You don't remember, do you? You really didn't remember that meeting." Alec shook his head slowly. James continued, "What else don't you remember?" The younger man barely managed to keep from rolling his eyes. How in the bloody hell was he supposed to know that? He couldn't bloody remember what he couldn't remember! However, he could tell Bond what he did remember. . . precious little that was.

"I remember certain things. I remember. . .I remember that godawful black train. I remember giving the order to ram you. And the look on Xenia's face when she realized you meant to derail us," Alec replied. He paused, then continued, "There are other things. I. . .I think I remember something. Conversations, pieces of conversations. Maybe it was during the last fight, the one that Rowanne saw. I sometimes hear my own voice telling you that I was always better."

"You did say that," James confirmed quietly, "you had a gun on me, after one of our fights, just before the end. You smiled, and told that you were always better. I kicked open the trap door, just seconds before you fired." Alec did close his eyes, then, actually feeling weak. He didn't want to believe it. But. . . He opened his eyes once more, and James repeated, almost in wonderment, "You really don't remember."

"No. I don't," Alec replied in a low voice. He paused, all too conscious of his undressed state, then asked, "Now, would you mind putting away that gun long enough for me to get dressed?" James smirked. . .the first sign of his former friend, the older brother he adored with all of his twenty year old heart. Alec braced himself for the inevitable quip, and mentally prepared for whatever Bond decided to say. There were _so_ many opportunities here, after all.

True to form, his former friend retorted, "Oh, I don't know, Alec. I rather like you like this." The blond man rolled his eyes once more. Only Bond. Of course, Alec knew what James meant. Alec's lack of clothing gave James an advantage, if only in psychological terms. However, one thing Alec never lacked, even when he was a prisoner in his own body, was a ready wit.

Alec fired back, settling his hands on his hips, "Oh, of that, I have no doubt, 007. However, my wife isn't inclined to share." A dark brow raised, and the corners of his old friend's mouth quirked, as if James was trying very hard not to smile. His expression, however, said clearly, '_Point to you, then_.' Alec continued, growing serious once more, "Give me twenty minutes, 007, while I dress and arrange for food to be sent to my wife. And then, we can conclude our business."

"Twenty minutes it is. . .and we have a great deal of unfinished business, Alec," James replied. Alec nodded, waiting until after the other man left before he sank onto the toilet seat, trembling a little. He ran his fingers through his still-wet hair, shaking a little. After he finished with MI-6, he really needed to find a good hiding place for a gun in here. This was the second time in two days that he was taken off his guard. There would be not a third time.

* * *

They bounced along the road to the Bramwell estate, and every few minutes, Sebastian would look over his shoulder at their unexpected third. Natalya Simonova just glared at him, as if she was their prisoner. Well, he could somewhat see her point, but they certainly didn't choose her to comealong on this little pleasure cruise! Sebastian glared right back, and she hissed, "What do you think you are doing? Hmm? Do you have any idea what that man did to my friends?"

"Do you have any idea what that man went through? He's a victim, too, Miss Simonova!" Sebastian fired back. This was the third time they had this conversation since the plane landed, and he was growing tired. William patted his shoulder, and Sebastian muttered, "I'd like to see how well she does under torture. It took them two years to break Alec and reform him into Janus. She wouldn't last two days."

"She's a civilian, dear boy. That's why we do what we do, so people like Miss Simonova can sleep at night. It's a price we learned to pay a long time ago. . .that, and not to expect gratitude from those whom we protect. But you're right, she doesn't have any idea what they did to Alec. She can only see what she knows," William advised him in a low voice. Sebastian just huffed again, shaking his head in frustration. He was right. Sebastian knew he was right. But it bloody well annoyed him!

This was why he said, "Technically, she isn't a civilian. She provides computer support to MI-6." William gave him his best 'disappointed father' look, which was actually quite good. Even better than M's disapproving headmistress look, which made sense, since William had more time to perfect his. Sebastian muttered, "All right, she isn't an MI-6 agent in any way, shape, or form. She provides computer support, and nothing else. Even so, she should know better. She should know. . ."

"I know, Sebastian. I know. But think of it this way. . .imagine how Mrs. Rowanne Trevelyan will react when she encounters Miss Simonova. For that matter, imagine how M will react," William pointed out. Sebastian cheered up a little. Yes, William did have a very good point. Even if Rowanne Bramwell Trevelyan was inclined to put up with Natalya Simonova, M would be most displeased.

And the woman in the back seat knew this. T here was a long silence as Natalya processed their conversation. Sebastian actually began to hope that they would make it the remaining five miles to the estate without further arguments. That hope was dashed when she said quietly, "You don't know what it did to James, his betrayal. Someone has to look out for him." Sebastian began smacking his forehead against the dashboard.

"Sebastian, please. . .that won't help. Young lady, I helped to train James Bond. There is no one more capable of taking care of himself. He has his own suspicion to protect him. And you're wrong. I think I do know what it did to James, because I also trained Alec Trevelyan. He was like my own son, and it nearly killed me when he was revealed as a traitor. So kindly don't tell me what I do and do not know. I have a far better idea than you," William answered in an icy voice. Sebastian sat back in his seat, rubbing his forehead.

There was another long silence, then Natalya Simonova asked, "What of this woman whom Trevelyan married? Does she know what he is?" Sebastian almost groaned. Oh, for the love of. . .! The woman cried out, "You tell me that he was tortured and broken, you tell me that he wasn't responsible for what he did! Fine! Then tell me who was responsible! You tell me who has the blood of my friends and co-workers on their hands! You tell me who kissed me against my will, who used me as a pawn!"

"We are speaking of Alec Trevelyan. . .a separate person from Janus, who is guilty of all that you say and more. I've not seen the footage of the interrogation and torture. I've not seen the injection of the chemicals into his body that would wipe away his memory. But I have read the files. Do you know, Miss Simonova, that there is a scientist in Russia who believes that the Nazi scientists were great men? That he is a follower of theirs?" William asked quietly.

There was a stunned silence from the backseat, and William continued, "My older brother fought in the Second World War. I was too young to fight, but I never forgot what my brother told me about the concentration camps. He told me about what the Nazi scientists did to their human subjects. Now, imagine a modern day scientist of that ilk. Imagine him coming up with an 'inventive new way of brainwashing.' By wiping a person's memory clean, and implanting false memories. And imagine that scientist setting a trap to capture a young English agent. Now you see what we're up against. If he can do that to one agent, to one of _my_ boys, then the sky's the limit."

"You. . .you're saying. . .you're saying that. . ." Natalya stuttered. Sebastian looked into the rearview mirror, seeing her stunned expression. She shook her head, as if trying to clear it, then tried again, forcing out, "But how. . .that's not possible!"

"Oh my dear girl," William sighed, "it is entirely possible. It has happened. Of the experiments, Alec is the only known survivor. Emphasis on 'known.' There might be others. Why did he survive? That's a question only he can answer. I can tell you this, however. At the end, he fought Janus every step of the way. Has it never occurred to you that if Alec truly wanted James dead, he would have killed him personally?"

"But there was the train. . .the helicopter! Both rigged to explode! Janus even told James. . ." Natalya began. She fell silent, even as the Bramwell house came into sight. After a moment, she said more slowly, "He said, 'the same six minutes you gave me.' I asked James what that meant. He said. . .he said that we had three minutes." Ahhh, now she was starting to understand, starting to see the outlines.

"And why would he tell James that? Why warn him at all? Because it wasn't Janus who told James of those three minutes. . .it was Alec. Just as it was Alec who ordered that James be hit with a tranquilizer dart, rather than killed outright. Did it ever seem odd to you, dear girl, that you were placed in a helicopter, rigged to explode, with someone who could escape? Did it ever seem as if Janus didn't want you dead?" William asked almost gently.

"None of this makes sense," Natalya whispered, shaking her head, "none of it. But he. . . Is that why he kept Boris from striking me?" William exchanged a look with Sebastian, and the young agent was amused to see William waggling his brows suggestively. Natalya shook her head, murmuring again, "None of this makes any sense. Why hold back? I was found in the mainframe, Janus knew that, he told Boris. . ."

"Janus sought that information from you, by threatening James. But it was Alec who protected you from Boris. It was Alec who warned James about the three minutes. It was Alec who gave you and James chances at escape. You had no way of knowing that. But you do know now. And here's something else you need to know. Rowanne Trevelyan is, from all accounts, quite protective of her husband. I think it very likely that she knows what was done to him. What would you do in her position?" William asked.

There was a long silence, then Natalya murmured, "Scratch out the eyes of anyone who threatened him. I still don't believe you. . ." Her voice trailed off. But, Sebastian could fill in the rest. She didn't believe them, but she was realizing there were things that didn't add up. However, her next words surprised both Sebastian and William. She said in a determined voice, "I want to see those notes. About the torture."

William started to protest, but it was then that they approached the gates. There were two security guards at the gatehouse, and William stuck his head out, saying, "My name is William Pryce-Meecham, code number 002, with MI-6. I believe some of my associates have already arrived? A woman and two men?" Sebastian actually drewback at the icy expression that appeared on the young guard's face.

"So you're with those troublemakers. Wish Lady Boss let us shoot them last night after they knocked the boss out," the young man retorted. Sebastian closed his eyes and leaned his head against the headrest. Oh, this was not a good thing. . .not a good thing at all. The young man continued, "But your name is on the list of approved visitors. Seems like the boss figured something like this was coming. Drive to the house, but be warned. . .you mess with the boss, or with the Lady Boss, again, and we _will_ shoot you." With those words, he stepped back and the gates opened.

"Sebastian, lad, take a personal note down for me, would you? Remind me to kill Bond once we're inside," William muttered under his breath. Sebastian nodded. Yes, he rather felt the same way. He just hoped they got to the house before there was any actual bloodshed. The younger agent would be _very_ annoyed if they came all this way, only to find that Bond killed Alec before he knew the whole truth!

* * *

"Matthew, a word?" 

Matthew Tate looked up as the door to the security room opened and the dark blond head of his boss appeared. Trevelyan continued, "I need to speak with Bond, alone. . .would you mind putting a tray together for my wife?" Matthew just smiled as he indicated the kitchen screen. Trevelyan sighed gustily, saying, "I should have known. The tray has already been started. Well, then, would you mind taking it to her?"

"Why don't you take the tray to her, and then talk to Bond? I know the Lady Boss. . .but you don't have to tell her that you're talking to Bond," Matthew offered. He knew Mrs. Trevelyan's thoughts on James Bond. . .very well, indeed. His boss grimaced a little. Matthew added, almost gently, "I know you don't like keeping things from her, boss. I think that's one of the reasons I respect you. But this. . ."

"You're right," Trevelyan acknowledged, "It's so strange, Matthew. Much of GoldenEye is a blur to me. Things stick out, but overall. . .the only part of that time which is clear to me, is Rowanne. My memories of her haven't been touched. Nor have the memories of falling into the cradle of the satellite dish, or those few minutes before I fell. Do you know, I can still feel the breeze on my face? I can still. . .I was glad, you know. Glad that it was over, glad that James stopped Janus."

He sat down in the chair beside Matthew, rubbing his hand over his eyes. After a moment, he looked up at Matthew and continued, "I was hanging upside down, with only James' hand around my ankle to stop me from falling. Why did he catch me? I remember thinking that. I remember. . .I remember looking up into his eyes. Janus was terrified. He didn't want to die. I. . ." Again, his boss fell silent.

Matthew made no comment. He had a sneaking suspicion that he was hearing something that no one ever had. And if he couldn't talk about this with his wife. . . After a moment, his boss continued, "It was that fear which allowed me to take over. I knew what would convince James to let go.I knew that James didn't want to watch me die again. He. . .in spite of everything, he still wanted to save me. Or, at least, a part of him wanted to save me."

"But if he did that," Matthew said softly, "Janus might take control once more, and kill James instead. So you made the decision. . .you would sacrifice yourself, to make sure that didn't happen." Trevelyan looked away, and Matthew nodded, murmuring, "That's it, isn't it? You said something, something that would remind James of Janus. . .of a betrayal. You sacrificed yourself to make sure Janus was stopped."

Trevelyan looked back, a smile flickering across his face, and he replied, "You make it sound noble. There was _nothing_ noble about it. I don't. . .if I allowed Janus to finish what he started, James would have died. And, I was afraid he would harm Rowanne. I couldn't let that happen. She was pulled into my little web against her will. She'll tell you that she was at fault, but she was an innocent child. She didn't deserve what. . .didn't deserve any of it. I had to stop Janus from killing James, and I had to stop him from hurting Rowanne. So I said the one thing that would convince James to let me go. '_For England, James_?' And it worked."

"But she loved you, boss. She loved you then, and she loves you now. She saw the real you. . .she had to, in order for her to fight for your life the way she did. You don't fight that hard for someone you just sleep with. I should know. . .of all people, I should know _that_. It doesn't matter how it started. . .what matters is how it ends. You and the Lady Boss, you didn't really have a say in how it started. But you can determine how, and when, it ends," Matthew replied.

He paused, then decided to go a little further, "She loves you, and you love her. That was the first thing I noticed two years ago, when Jack Wade recruited me. I noticed the way you two looked at each other. . .how she made you smile. It's what I've always wanted, and never really realized that I wanted. I figured out something else, too. Women, they're smarter. . .they don't get caught up in the macho stupidity, and they live longer for it."

At that, his boss laughed softly, saying, "That sounds like something my wife would say. I don't suppose your mother was a quiet little firebrand with a self-esteem problem when she was younger?" Matthew shook his head, laughing. His mother was a firebrand, but she wasn't quiet, not by any stretch of the imagination. His boss continued, "Ah, well, it's Rowanne's contention that men are drawn to women who remind them of their mother."

"My father died when I was a child, and my mother held us together. . .but she wasn't quiet. She couldn't afford to be. But. . .wait a minute. How did you know I was attracted to the Lady Boss when I first got here?" Matthew demanded, briefly forgetting that his boss was a former spy, and a damn good one at that. The other man just smiled and said nothing. Matthew shook his head, continuing, "I suppose since you didn't remember your mother. . ."

"Not really. I think. . .Rowanne. . .well, you know for a fact she tends to mother people. The girls, the Marines, me. . .even the Janus operatives. She mothers everyone. I suppose I hope that's what my mother was like. It's quite amusing, actually, to see her mothering the Janus operatives. You know, I've actually seen Dylan begging her for a cookie after she's finished baking. Just like. . ." the man's voice trailed off, and he looked at Matthew, adding with a surprised half-smile, "Maybe I do remember some things about my mother, after all."

Matthew nodded compassionately. Yes, he believed so. His boss said softly, "Janus and Juturna. They respect me, perhaps even fear me. But I think at the end of the day, the operatives fight for her. She's the one who knows their names, the names of their family members. She's the one who takes care of them. Who takes them aside if she thinks something is troubling them. They would die for her, wouldn't they?"

"It's our job, boss. That's what we were hired to do. We protect. You know, I've heard stories about you, right after you woke up. Before you started getting memories back. How some of the Janus operatives would pass your room, to find Sassy in bed with you, watching cartoons. In fact, Sassy-girl says that your favorite cartoon was _Gargoyles_. And you know what their primary purpose was," Matthew observed.

As if quoting from the animated television series, his boss replied, "Gargoyles protect." Matthew nodded. They were both silent for a long time. Matthew glanced at the screens. Lady Boss was still asleep. She lay on her side, arms and body curled around a pillow. Matthew frowned, when did that happen? For that matter. . .when did his boss see Bond? Unease crept into Matthew's soul, as he did a quick playback. Bond was coming out of the bathroom attached to the master bedroom. . . but there was no sign of him going in.

A few quick keystrokes told Matthew that there was no lost time. How did Bond get in without him seeing, without the camera seeing? He was unaware of speaking aloud, until Trevelyan said, "Bond is a double-oh agent. He knows, just as well as I do, how to disable or avoid cameras altogether. The security camera in our room swings from one side to the other, ensuring a full picture of the room."

"So. . .if you don't want the cameras to go offline, and you don't have the equipment with you to temporarily disable them, you time your moves according to the position of the camera. . .making sure that you move when the camera is pointed in the opposite direction," Matthew observed and Trevelyan nodded, smiling a little. Matthew continued, "Well, we'll just see if we can't improve our security system." The smile broadened, and his boss rose to his feet. Matthew continued as the other man headed out of the room, "I hope you can. . .I hope Bond listens. Lady Boss is pretty certain them being here is not a good thing."

"Why am I not surprised by my wife's perception? They want something, Matthew, something in particular, and something other than my head on a platter," came the rueful answer. Mathew just smiled, and was turning his attention back to his work when his boss called his name. The Marine (there was no such thing as an ex-Marine, after all) looked back at the blond man, who added, "Matthew. . .my name is 'Alec.' I think it's time for you to start using it, don't you?"

"Alec," Matthew repeated, answering his employer's request. That earned him another smile, then Alec Trevelyan slipped from the room. Matthew turned his attention back to work. He watched as moments later, his boss appeared in the kitchen, picked up the tray, and started toward the master bedroom. . .right off the foyer. At the same time, he noticed three figures standing in front of the front door.

Curious, he pulled up the screen that the security detail used when emailing each other. As he hoped, there was an email from the guards at the gates. As he read over the email, Matthew's eyes narrowed. Interesting. . .very interesting. First M, 007 and Robinson showed up. . .now there were at least two more double-oh agents. He really didn't think the young man with the retired double-oh-two was his son.

Matthew picked up his squawk box and said, "We have a situation beta. Do not, I repeat, do not respond until Janus is safely inside his and Juturna's bedroom." There were calls of acknowledgment from all parties. Matthew paused, then repeated the message on the channel used by the Janus operatives. Again, all of the operatives on the grounds answered in the affirmative. Matthew watched his employer's progress, Alec carefully balancing the tray as he opened the door. It was only after the door shut behind him that Matthew once more called, "Repeat, we have a situation beta. Please respond now." He picked up his own pistol, made sure it was loaded, then tucked it inside his holster. There was no such thing as being too prepared.

* * *

The shifting of the bed awoke Rowanne Trevelyan. She opened her eyes to find her husband sitting beside her with a grin that could be best described as 'shit-eating.' He had a tray over her legs. He brought her breakfast in bed. . .and what was he doing awake before her? Then she remembered. . . Sassy's illness, the seventy-two hours she went without sleep, their unexpected arrivals the night before. And then, this morning. 

Alec just smiled at her brightly, and Rowanne rasped out, pointing her finger at him accusingly, "You did that deliberately." Alec's smile widened, his green eyes dancing with mischief. Of course he did. He played dirty tricks on her all the time. . .especially when he was trying to get her to take care of herself. As if he had any room to talk? He was the one who usually forgot to eat and rest, especially after a batch of Janus operatives came back from completing an assignment!

However, he popped a grape in her mouth before she had a chance to further harass him, and said, "Eat. You need to keep up your strength. I haven't forgotten what we talked about this morning." What we. . .oh. Oh yes. Now she remembered.

Alec wanted another child. Actually, so did she, but that was a little different. Alec didn't really know what entailed another child. The mood swings. The cravings. . .getting up at odd hours of the night to feed the baby. Rowanne answered, "I haven't forgotten, either. And I still think that's probably the sexiest thing you've ever said to me." Alec turned bright red and he ducked his head. Rowanne asked, "Aren't you going to eat anything?"

He mumbled something, and Rowanne thought she caught the name, 'Bond' in there somewhere. She looked at her husband's bent head, asking, "Alec? Would you mind repeating that, so I can understand what you not eating has to do with Bond?" Alec raised his head to look at her more closely, his eyes narrowing with suspicion, and Rowanne added, "And please, give me a little more credit, will you?"

"I said," he answered with a long-suffering sigh, "that I'm due to meet Bond in about ten minutes, and I'd rather not eat anything before he has a chance to beat me half to death." It took a few moments for Rowanne to process that, as she was decimating the food prepared for her. When it finally hit her, she looked at him more clearly. Then her hand clenched around her spoon, and Alec grabbed her wrist, stating, "NO!"

_No_? Alec continued, "I have to do this, Rowanne. We, you and I, settled things two years ago. . . but this, between Bond and me, has been festering for almost twenty years. I'm a little out of condition, but I won't go down without a fight. I promise. There's too much at stake for me to play martyr. Listen. . .there's never been a time during the last nine years when you weren't there to pick up the pieces, Rowanne. But this time. . .this time, I need you to trust me. The way I've trusted you. Please, Rowanne. Don't interfere."

His eyes implored her to do this, to stand back. And he was right. Aside from that one glitch, two years earlier, he had trusted her implicitly ever since he woke up. Rowanne took a deep breath, then released it. She sighed, "I don't want to do this. Lord knows, I don't want to let you do this. But it's never been a case of 'letting' you do anything, has it? You'll do what you have to, to make things right, to protect us. So. . .the only thing I can do, is respect your decision. I don't like it. But I can't take your nightmares away, either."

Alec released her wrist, cupping her cheek, and replied, "No, love. You can't. And we knew that sooner or later, the past would come back. I'm just grateful for the time I had with you, as myself." He leaned forward and lightly kissed her forehead. Rowanne wrapped her arms around him, ignoring the tray of food in front of her. She held onto him with all of her strength. It was silly, she knew. It wasn't as if she was sending him to his death.

Wasn't it? How could she be sure? Last night, she saw the hatred in James Bond's eyes when he looked at her husband. She knew what Alec was capable of doing, and she knew that Bond had the same capacities as her husband. If anything, Bond was more dangerous than Alec, because he remained in the game, these last nine years. Alec practiced with both the Marines and the Janus operatives, but he hadn't been in the field since GoldenEye. Bond would have the advantage over her husband because of that, and because Bond wanted to kill Alec.

There was a scuffle outside the room, and voices shouting. Alec pulled back. . .their eyes met. . .then Alec moved the tray to one side. Rowanne slid out of bed, grabbing a robe as she did so. It occurred to her that it was probably two or three in the afternoon, and she was still in her pajamas. It also occurred to her that she really didn't care. Both she and Alec ran out into the hall, to find the Marines and the Janus operatives surrounding three people.

There was an old man. . .a young man. . .and a young woman. Rowanne frowned, as the young woman seemed familiar to her. However, she couldn't place her. Alec murmured, "William?" Rowanne looked up at her husband. . .he knew one of the men? But instead of greeting the. . . visitors. . .he stood still at her side. Rowanne stared at him anxiously. He was pale. . .and she didn't like the way he was breathing.

The young man asked, almost meekly, "Uhm. . .take us to your leader?" He spoke with an odd accent, a mixture of English and something else. Rowanne smiled in spite of herself. He was around her own age, maybe a year or two older, with short dark hair. And rather good-looking, though he certainly wasn't Alec. The young man lookedaround, and his eyes fell on her and Alec. Unexpectedly, his eyes lit up, and he breathed, "My God. It's really real. He's really alive, double-oh-two!"

The old man's head turned in their direction, and Alec said hoarsely, "It's all right, stand down. William?" Rowanne stepped closer to her husband, not entirely understanding what was happening, and wanting to protect him. A lec put his arm around her shoulders, as he repeated, "William? It's really you?" The men fell back, still watching the newcomers warily. The path was cleared from the old man to Alec, and the old man moved haltingly forward.

"Alec. . .my dear boy," the old man murmured, his eyes never leaving Alec's face. Rowanne swallowed hard, and now saw the danger they all faced. Especially her husband. For nine years, she had him to herself. . .she and the girls. If anyone could convince her husband to involve himself in the game once more, it would be this man. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, she came face to face with someone from her husband's past. . .and this man was far more dangerous than James Bond. This man loved her husband, too.

Then the man named 'William' was directly in front of them. Rowanne looked up at Alec, saw the naked fear in his eyes. William was dangerous to Alec because he loved Alec. And because Alec loved him. Rowanne put her hand over her husband's, trying to reassure him. The old man reached up, and Rowanne tensed, ready to protect her husband. She knew, all too well, what kind of rage resulted from love betrayed.

But there was only tenderness as he cupped Alec's face in his hands. Rowanne hesitated, then carefully stepped away from her husband, wrapping her arms around her own waist. William spared her a gentle, grateful smile, then turned his attention to Alec. He peered into Alec's eyes, as if searching for something he lost. _Someone _he lost. After a moment, satisfied with whatever he found, the old man enfolded Alec in a fierce embrace, whispering, "Oh my dear boy. . .forgive this old man?"

Bond appeared, and seemed on the verge of saying something, when one of the Marines on security detail pointed a gun in his face. Satisfied that the annoying agent would behave himself, Rowanne turned her attention back to the reunion between her husband and. . .this man. 002. What was he to Alec? Then it hit her. This was the man who trained him! The closest thing he had to a father, he told her once.

The tension was slowly easing from her husband's body, and his forehead came down to rest on the old man's shoulder. William kept whispering, 'forgive me, please forgive me.' Rowanne swallowed hard, and the elder agent reached out to grasp her wrist, and drew her into the embrace as well. Startled, Rowanne didn't argue. William's arm went around her shoulders, and Alec's free arm went around her waist.

Only moments earlier, she feared this old man. . .feared he would take Alec away from her. Now, she knew that for the foolishness it was. This man was no threat to her family. If anything, he would make them whole. He was someone from Alec's past, someone who loved him. Rowanne came to realize a few months after their marriage that she couldn't heal him. . . not all of him, at least. This man. . .this man might be able to.

* * *

It was the first time he ever held Alec. Posing for a picture with the boy, just after he received double-oh status, and putting his arm around Alec's shoulders, didn't count. This was the first time he held Alec, and until he laid eyes on the boy only moments earlier, it didn't really register with William. Alec was alive. His face was clear of the scars from the explosion at Arkangelsk, and William was sure there was a story there. 

For now, he didn't care. He only wanted to hold this young man whom he betrayed, whom he thought lost forever. He was a soldier once, a soldier, then an MI-6 agent. He was an old man now, and in some ways, he knew Alec better than his own daughters. He was an old man, and he earned the right to weep over a prodigal child returned. To weep in joy, in grief, and in guilt. He was an old soldier, and there were none more sentimental than old soldiers.

At last, Alec pulled back a little and asked hoarsely, "Forgive you? For what, William? I don't understand." He pulled back, but didn't release William or his wife. His wife. Rowanne Bramwell Trevelyan was staring at him, her expression still anxious. Given the events of the last twenty-four hours, he could hardly blame her. The pictures didn't do her justice. . .but they rarely did. On the other hand, she was thirty-two years old now. . .a wife and mother. . .not a vulnerable girl of twenty-two. She grew up, and she grew into her skin.

"Forgive me, Alec, for not telling you the truth about your parents. I knew, you see, and couldn't bring myself to tell you. I could have spared you so much pain, if I was just honest with you," William finally told Alec. He felt the boy tense, and continued, "I know everything, Alec. I know what they did to you after Arkangelsk. And I know about this young lady. I want you to meet someone. . .Sebastian, lad, come on over."

Sebastian stepped gingerly from Natalya Simonova's side, and William continued, "This is Sebastian Miller. The current double-oh-six, and the man who put the pieces together. He's the one who found out about Orlov, and what he did to you." Alec mouthed 'Orlov,' his brow creasing ashe tried to remember the name. William tried to distract him, adding, "Sebastian, this is Alec Trevelyan. . .your predecessor as double-oh-six, and one of the finest young agents I ever had the pleasure of instructing."

"It. . .it's a pleasure to meet you, Alec," Sebastian stumbled a little. William realized, of course, that Alec became something of a hero to Sebastian over the last few months. The younger agent said, "And you, Mrs. Trevelyan. What you did was absolutely brilliant." Now the poor girl looked just as lost as her husband. Sebastian tried to explain, telling them, "I've seen the tapes. I know what they did to him, you see. I don't know if I could have. . ."

Not the smoothest of introductions, but Sebastian was hit hard by whatever he saw on the tapes. But William's attention was distracted from his newest protégé's stumbling and fumbling words. Alec murmured, "Orlov. . .Ivan. 'Vanya' for short. Born February 18, 1950. Believed to have ties to the modern Nazi party. It was my first mission, once I was given the license to kill. We found his laboratory, James and I, and blew it to hell."

He was almost hyperventilating, his face ashen. Alec squeezed his eyes shut, trembling. William looked at Alec's wife, hoping she knew what was happening. She did. The young woman said softly,"He's having a flashback." William's blood ran cold. Had he unexpectedly awakened Janus? Rowanne Trevelyan tightened her arms around Alec's waist, as if anchoring him. She murmured, "He keeps remembering things. It started last night, after Bond and the others showed up."

That actually made sense. Bond was a part of his past, and a part of his past Alec probably hadn't faced yet. Seeing his former friend. . .once his best friend. . .again probably shook loose memories long hidden. William didn't know what Alec remembered, and what was pushed to the back of his mind to protect himself, but he did know enough about the human psyche to realize that he remembered what he was ready to remember. At least, that was the case until the last few days.

At last, Alec opened his eyes. . .and now his attention fell on the dark-haired young woman who accompanied them to the compound. Natalya Simonova. They stared at each other for a long moment. There was both pity and hatred in the woman's eyes, as she finally realized that he and Sebastian were telling her the truth. William looked at Alec, his blood running cold anew as he heard Alec say under his breath, too quietly for anyone but William and Rowanne to hear, "_You'll like where we're going. . .you may even learn to like me_."

It didn't take a genius to realize that this was something Janus said to the young woman during the Goldeneye incident. Perhaps while they were on the train? Before James arrived to rescue her? Most likely.William glanced over at Rowanne, who looked just as anxious as he felt. Then Alec took a deep breath and said, raising his voice enough to be heard, "I believe I owe you an apology, Miss Simonova."

Her eyes hardened, and William realized that to Natalya, Alec had just done something unforgivable. He wanted to apologize to her, for sins both real and imagined. She wanted to hate him, and he was taking that last refuge away from her. This would be neither easy, nor pretty, but he was sure it had to be done. Alec, to his credit, was maintaining eye contact with the woman. T here was genuine remorse in his eyes. And that, perhaps, was most unforgivable of all.

He wasn't supposed to be sorry. . .wasn't supposed to feel remorse for what he had done. It made it so much easier to hate, when the other had no remorse for the pain caused. There was nothing William could do to deflect the coming storm. The young programmer would lash out at Alec, trying to sting him into attacking her, so she could feel justified in hating him. He knew this.

The storm wasn't long in coming. Natalya Simonova nodded coolly and asked, "An apology? For the kiss? For taking me against my will? For killing my friends and my co-workers? For trying to kill James, for almost killing me? Do you really think one apology will make up for all of that? For the people, the innocents you were perfectly willing to kill?" Her voice rose as she spoke. S he took first one step, then another, then another, until she was standing directly in front of Alec.

"For all of that, yes, and more. Will it make up for it? Of course not. I'm not stupid, Miss Simonova," Alec answered in an even voice. Carefully, without her truly realizing it, William began drawing Rowanne out of the line of fire. Alec noted the movement and nodded, very slightly. With his wife safely out of the way, he continued, still in that low voice, "But it's all I have to offer. I am sorry."

William knew that this would happen. Seeds of doubt were sowed. He could see it in the eyes of his other protégé, he could see it in Natalya's eyes. But nine years worth of nightmares could not be overcome in one afternoon, and this young woman was a victim as well. Alec knew this. Janus was the one who caused the suffering, but it would be Alec who paid the price. He knew this. He accepted it.

Natalya stared at him. . .and then her lovely face twisted in grief and rage and hatred. She raised her hand and slapped Alec hard across the face. William felt Rowanne Trevelyan inhale sharply, felt her tense in his arms, but he held fast. Alec didn't react to the slap at all. Nor did he react when the Russian woman began raining blows upon his torso, screaming at him. William's Russian was rusty, but he could make out a few words. . .none of them were fit for polite company. He only hope she didn't accidentally trigger Janus with one of her curses.

At last, the Russian woman's blows began slowingdown and losing strength. She sobbed helplesslyand Alec grasped her wrists gently, wrapping his arms around her and drawing Natalya forward until her head rested against his chest. He held her gently, allowing her to cry it all out. Rowanne's slight body was still tense in William's arms, but he tightened his grip. This was something that Alec had to do. At length, Natalya's sobs eased and she looked up at Alec, blinking back her tears. He returned her gaze, a sad smile touching his mouth, as he whispered in English, "I am _truly_ sorry."

Perhaps it wasn't what Natalya wanted to hear. . .but it was a good place to start for atonement.


	9. In the Eyes of Spies and Scientists

Well, it looks like I'm getting in one last update before heading to Hawaii next week! Oh, and before I go any further. . .wish me luck, y'all. I have three or four job applications going out this week!

Sz2000: It's my pleasure to have Alec live! Thank you for reading! While I am going on vacation next week, I am taking notes and watching _GoldenEye_ each time it airs, just in case I've missed something. And I'm also taking my laptop with me. I just can't promise I'll get any writing done, because the four munchkins are curious sorts. I actually got the idea for the memory wipe from being confused about the timer reset. It seemed like it would be standard procedure for a situation like that, and the next thing I know, I have an amnesiac Alec Trevelyan and an equally confused James Bond. I'm so glad you're enjoying this story, and _Heart Bound in Chains_. I hope to update that as well before I leave next Tuesday. Things will get interesting for both Ian and Alec (more so for poor Alec, though).

Nomi-clawskull: Proper review or not, it's greatly appreciated. However, as I tell the gals reviewing my LOTR story in particular. . .it's even better when the review tells me what they like about it! It's especially important to me that even within the broader limits of an AU (Xenia being crushed under the satellite tower, rather than Alec), it remains believable. _GoldenEye_ was also the first _Bond_ movie I saw in the theatre, and while I was overjoyed that Pierce Brosnan was finally playing the role, it was Sean Bean who ultimately got my posterior into the theatre.

Terreis: Yea, an update! While the addition you suggested in our Mega-email isn't in this chapter, it will be in one of the successive chapters. The characters keep changing their minds about what event will be in which chapter. . .I can't keep up with them. (shakes head) Why am I tell you this. . .you know what I mean!

Iolana: So glad you're enjoying this. I'll also be taking your suggestions, about James' reaction to the beatings and the torture. Edited somewhat for content. And his confusion, his general unease, about the entire situation is about to get worse. Honestly, I think he finds that as unforgivable as anything else. He doesn't like being adrift like this, especially not where Alec is concerned.

Caught in the Game Again

Chapter Eight

In the Eyes of Spies and Scientists

When she was a young girl, Rowanne Trevelyan dreamed of owning a huge house. It would be airy. . .not at all like the stifling manor house where she grew up. The library would take up no fewer than two rooms, and she would have a minimum of five guestrooms for when her siblings came to visit. She would have at least two dogs and maybe a few cats. . .not very likely, though, because Rowanne was more of a dog person.

More than sixteen years later, she could only look around the house where she and her family lived for the last two years in amazement. She did, indeed, have a large house, just like she wanted. But instead of animals, she had a husband and two daughters. Plus the Marines and the operatives. When she was a teenager, having a husband didn't even enter into the picture. Of course, she lost her heart to a variety of boys in those years, but when she tried to imagine her husband. . .the picture was foggy.

Then again, who could imagine someone like Alec Trevelyan? The man could always take her breath away. Right now, he was calming his operatives. . .both the Marines and the Janus operatives. They were almost as protective of him as she was. At the same time, Rowanne organized the rooms for the new arrivals. She shook her head, muttering, "Keep this up and I may have to start hot-racking the Marines in the barracks."

_Or_, she decided after a moment_, Bond could stay with the Marines in the barracks. That could be fun._ However, she really didn't think Alec would agree to that. _Unfortunately_. At that particular moment, Alec raised his eyes from what he was doing, and caught her staring at him. He gave her one of his most devastating smiles, and Rowanne melted inside. Damn him. She really hated it when he did that.

Like Hell she did. With a rueful sigh, she turned her attention back to the sleeping arrangements. All right. If she put Robinson and Bond in the same room, and then put M and Natalya Simonova into the same room. . .that still left William Pryce-Meecham and Sebastian Miller. She already spoke to Sabrina, and her stepdaughter confirmed that she would feel better if Sassy remained in her room. That was good. She would have a word with Sassy a little later, remind her daughter of their conversations about other people's property. . .and privacy.

Right. There was still the matter of the current 006 and semi-retired 002. After the confrontation in the foyer, Alec gently pushed her toward the shower. He didn't care about her running around in her pajamas, but they had work to do. And it might be a touch difficult for their. . .guests to take her seriously if she looked like a college student. She whacked his butt for that.

Still, he was right and Rowanne knew it. She took herself off to the master bath, after a quiet word with William Pryce-Meecham. Actually, it was four quiet words. '_Look after my husband_.' The old man nodded gravely. With someone other than their Marines and operatives watching his back, Rowanne took her shower and changed into a white blouse and a pair of black shorts. She was very good, and ignored her inner imp, who wanted her to wear her spandex bicycle shorts. Nah. . .she would save those for Alec. He would appreciate them more.

Sleeping arrangements. Damn. That was the third time her mind took a walk without her permission. There was one room that the two agents could share. However, as she rose to her feet to investigate, William Pryce-Meecham sat down in front of her. He smiled gently and said, "My dear girl, there is no reason for you to agonize like this. Sebastian and I have been speaking with your Marines, and they tell us of two spare bunks in the barracks. We would be more than happy to take those bunks."

"You're sure? I mean. . ." Rowanne began, more than a little flustered. She knew the man trained Alec, but damn, he scared her when he read her mind like that! Or more likely, her facial expressions. He just smiled at her, and Rowanne asked next, "Why are you here, Mr Pryce-Meecham? Why is MI-6 suddenly interested in my husband again? What do you want from him?" There. There it was. Her fears, spoken aloud.

"First, dear child, my name is 'William.' I am entirely too old to waste time on such formalities. . . especially since the formalities would include a 'Sir' in front of my name. I am an old soldier, Rowanne Trevelyan, and I don't believe in such a waste of time. Now. As to why I'm here. . . Sebastian and I wantto help you. That is our only purpose here. Well, I also wanted to see Alec again. I have missed him terribly, these last eighteen years," the man replied.

He paused, then continued, "You see, Rowanne. . .I trained them both. Both James and Alec, and I know James better than anyone else. . .except, perhaps, Alec. I knew that he would find the revelations difficult to believe. And I was determined to arrive before James did something truly stupid. As to what MI-6 wants with Alec. . .I think you already know the answer. Sooner or later, the monsters who created Janus will come after you. When that happens, both Sebastian and I wish to fight at your side."

"You're here to help me protect my husband?" Rowanne asked as clarification. He nodded slowly, and Rowanne exhaled. She looked away, looked over at her husband. Alec was once more involved in a conversation with the Janus operatives. For the last few months, as the Marine detail and the Janus organization grew, she and Alec discussed resettling the entire organization within the continental US. . .perhaps in one of the former military bases that were closed in the last few decades.

She was wary of such a move, but Alec was a few steps ahead of her. He realized that such a large group of people would attract attention. For that reason, he wanted one of his legitimate businesses placed in the former military installation. They were still working out the details about the taxes and the fact that the Janus Group could be considered a militia group. Alec assured her that they would make sure all bases were covered. She wasn't convinced yet. But at least Alec realized there was a lot they had to consider before they took such action.

After a moment, she looked back at William and said, "I need to do the payroll sheets and take care of the HR aspect of Janus. Want to come with me to my office?" William nodded and she caught the eye of her stepdaughter. Sabrina smiled, though her expression was guarded as she eyed Natalya Simonova. Even so, she made a slight shooing gesture, as if to say, '_go, I've got everything under control_.'

As they walked to the office, William asked softly, "When, exactly, will we see this tape?" Rowanne looked at him closely, and the old man continued, "I'm not a fool, child. I would guess you intend to show the tape to 007, Robinson, and M sometime today. What of Alec? Has he seen the tape yet?" Rowanne shook her head, leading him into her office. She kicked the door shut and booted up the computer.

"No. I offered to show the tapes to him two years ago, after he regained his Janus memories. Sort of. . .I don't know. An olive branch, a. . .peace offering. He wasn't ready. Hope you don't mind, but I need music when I work. It helps me focus," she observed. The old agent shrugged and Rowanne slid in her Hollie Smith CD. . .quite a change from the Duran Duran tapes she listened to when she was a girl.

She smiled faintly, remembering her comment to her sister after meeting Alec for the first time. She called him a cross between Simon LeBon, John Taylor, and Kiefer Sutherland. Now, she wondered how she could have said that, as Alec was better-looking than all three combined. Rowanne sat down, gesturing for her guest to do the same, "Now, let me ask you. Was I wrong not to tell Alec everything after he woke up?"

"No," the man said firmly. Rowanne blinked. There was absolutely no doubt in that answer, and William continued, "The human mind, my dear, is an amazing thing. It knows when it is ready to remember, and when it must forget. Alec was not ready to remember what he became and what he did when he first woke up four years ago. The amnesia was the mind's way of resetting itself. It recognized that this wasn't Alec Trevelyan. . .the amnesia gave Alec time, and a means, to return to himself."

Rowanne sighed a little, leaning back in her chair, and said softly, "That's what I wanted to believe. But. . .oh, God. You didn't see the look in his eyes when his memories returned. He looked so. . . betrayed. Like I cut out a piece of his soul." She rubbed a hand over her own eyes. It haunted her during the last two years. That, and the eternal question. . ._what could I have done better_? Was there some way she could have prevented all of this from happening?

"No, dear girl," William said softly, interrupting Rowanne's private fears. . .or perhaps hearing those fears, "on the contrary. You gave his soul back to him. Do you know, ever since I learned of your existence, I've wanted to meet you?" Say what? William noted her obviously surprised look, and smiled, replying, "Oh yes. The monster who took our Alec from us. . .Dr Ivan Orlov. . .he never spoke of you by name. It was ever 'the girl' in his writings. And he hated you. . .he hated you and he feared you."

Yes, she heard a little of this. . .but not much. William continued, "He felt threatened by you. You, a mere slip of a girl, could undo everything he worked for, all that he achieved in the creation of Janus. A twenty-two year old American girl, the last person anyone would expect to have such an effect. . . began the process that returned Alec Trevelyan's humanity to him. Because she saw him not as a weapon to be used or a tool. . .but as a human being."

Rowanne never heard it put in quite those terms. William smiled at her tenderly, adding, "You were nothing special, in the eyes of spies and scientists. But your influence undermined the hold on Alec maintained by the creators of Janus. It was your influence that stayed Alec's hand, each time he had the chance to kill James directly. It was your influence that prompted him to sacrifice his life. Janus had to be stopped. . .and if Alec had to die, again, then so be it."

"Huh?" Rowanne asked rather inelegantly. She shook her head, turning in her seat to face him, and continued, "How do you know this? Alec never talks about. . .what happened up there. That's partly my fault. . .I still have nightmares about it." And, she feared, she would have another one the next time she slept. The conversations about that horrible day always brought the memories back, and with them came the nightmares.

"James told me. Consider this, my dear. You saw what you saw. . .Alec hanging upside down in midair, with only James Bond's hand between him and certain death. But you didn't hear what was said. As they were suspended there, moments before the satellite tower came crashing down, Alec asked something very important. He asked, '_for England, James_?' And that was all that needed to be said. There was still a part of James that wanted to save Alec," William replied.

_For England, James_? She heard those words before, when. . .it was a taunt. Said in exactly the right tone. . .oh gods. Rowanne covered her mouth with her hand, and William said, "Yes. Alec. . . Alec pushed through the layers of Janus, and reminded James what was at stake. He willingly sacrificed himself to save England. . .to save James. And, to save you. As I said. James told me what happened. He just didn't realize that he told me. He didn't realize that it was Alec who helped him to save. . .everything."

Rowanne's head snapped up, her hand falling into her lap, and she whispered, "Alec's decision. . . when he came back from Scotland. It was to remain loyal to England. . .wasn't it? He made his choice, and he chose England over revenge?" William lowered his eyes, then nodded after a moment. Rowanne closed her own eyes, whispering, "Oh God. . .oh, Alec. I'll kill them, I swear I'll kill every last one of them!"

She was almost sobbing in grief and rage for him. William put his hand on her knee, replying, "No, my dear. . .I think not. You're not like us. You can kill, of that, I have no doubt. But you are not the sort of person who can pursue revenge. . .not the way James or I can. You can kill to defend your family. But you are not a cold-blooded killer. You're Alec's innocence, in some ways."

Rowanne laughed mirthlessly, retorting, "As my college roommate used to say, just to annoy me, you wanna bake a Met? You have no idea what I'm capable of. . .especially where my family is concerned. I turned Janus into an anti-terrorist group, to avenge my sister and to prevent other families from being torn apart, the way mine was. Don't think for a moment that I can't kill for the sake of revenge, because I can."

"Revenge? No. No. . .because the second half of your statement negated the first. To prevent other families from being torn apart. That isn't about revenge. That's about protection, child. You are not a cold-blooded killer. I have no doubt that you could have been a fine MI-6 agent, or an operativeof one of your own law enforcement agencies. But you would have never been given a license to kill," William stated with finality.

Rowanne didn't bother correcting him. She knew how far she would go to protect her family. She knew what she would do to someone who attacked her daughters or her husband. Instead, she focused her attention on making sure all of their people were paid correctly and on time. There was a long silence, and then William asked curiously, "Why is it that you trust me enough to bring me alone into your office?"

"Because Alec trusts you, and that's enough. Even if you hated me, I don't think you could hurt me, because the look in Alec's eyes would kill you. In the beginning, you scared me, but I know now. . . you love him. Just as much as I do. Maybe even more. You know. . .you don't have to see the tapes. It'll be in about twenty minutes, once I finish with this. . .give everyone time to recover before dinner," Rowanne answered.

"So, you don't think I could hurt you because of Alec. . .not because I'm an old man?" William queried. Rowanne looked at him levelly, and he chuckled, adding, "You are a magnificent young woman, do you know that? Alec saw past the vulnerability, saw past the child to the woman whom she would become. But I think you outdid even his expectations. Well played, my dear. . .well played indeed."

"Thank you. . .I think. And no. You've told me twice that you trained both Alec and double-oh seven," Rowanne replied, narrowly avoiding calling Bond 'double-oh asshat' instead. Her current guest might not appreciate that too terribly much. Right now, he was an ally, and she needed all the allies she could get. It would be just plain stupid for her to alienate him with her blatant dislike of his other student. Rowanne was a lot of things, but not stupid. At least, not any more. She continued, "You might have forty years on me, but I bet you could still kick my butt with one hand tied behind your back." William looked at her, then roared with laughter. Okay. . .she didn't think it was quite that funny, though there was just no telling.

"Indeed," he chortled, "indeed I could, though I certainly have no desire to do so!" Okay, that was fine then. William grew serious, then, saying, "And you're wrong. I must see that tape. I must see what they did to my Alec. I need to see it, just as much as James does. And Rowanne. . .be warned. James is nothing if not unpredictable. I have no way of knowing how he'll react to those revelations."

In other words, he believed it all too likely that James Bond would lash out at Alec for what was done to him. That was a peculiarity of men that she could never understand, even after the Janus operatives and the Marines tried to explain the way men thought. _Well then_, Rowanne thought grimly_, I'll put the Marines on alert before and after I show it. 'Cause there ain't no way I'm gonna let double-oh asshat hurt Alec. My husband's been hurt enough. No. . .more.

* * *

_

After a brief 'discussion' with Sabrina Trevelyan, Natalya was shown to a room by one of the Marines. . .and the young woman was startled to realize that she was sharing a room with M. The older woman said quietly, "Not exactly what you had in mind when you left London, is it?" Natalya shook her head, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. She deposited her bag on the floor beside the window and stared out to the ocean. What was she doing here?

In the beginning, when she first heard about the attempts to clear Alec Trevelyan's name, she wanted to stop the foolishness. That was why she came, why she followed Sebastian Miller and William Pryce-Meecham from London. But why was she here? She already learned that they told her the truth. . .she saw that in Alec Trevelyan's eyes when she pounded on his chest, when she slapped him.

He was not the man who kissed her against her will, nine years ago in St Petersburg. He was not the man. . . Natalya shook her head, trying to clear it. Part of what led her on her current path was her hatred of Alec Trevelyan. Only. . .he wasn't the one who deserved her hatred. That person. . .that entity. . .no longer existed. Her roommate said softly, "You realize, Natalya, that what you learned today does not negate the path you've chosen."

Natalya looked at the other woman, who smiled almost sadly, and continued, "It was not so very hard to decipher what you were thinking, dear. The choices you made after the destruction of GoldenEye led you on a new career path. Your hatred of Janus is not unreasonable, and the revelations concerning Alec Trevelyan do not negate the choices you've made in the last nine years. GoldenEye _did_ happen."

"For nine years, I have hated that man. Not just Janus, but Trevelyan. Because I thought he was the puppet master, only now, I learn that he was another puppet. I must see that footage. I saw the truth, when I looked into his eyes, but it isn't enough. I am all that remains of the personnel at Severnaya. I owe it to my friends, my co-workers, to myself, to see. . .everything.It isn't enough, any more, to know why they died," Natalya replied, "The beginning wasn't nine years ago. It was an ending and a beginning."

"That is true. Just as this is an ending and a beginning. Janus remains, Natalya. He remains, and it is requiring Alec Trevelyan enormous strength of will to keep him leashed. We must finish this. Eighteen years ago, my predecessor made a series of bad judgments that consigned Alec Trevelyan to a living hell. It is up to us to set him free, once and for all. 007 can't do it. Are you willing to do what must be done?" M asked.

Natalya had to ask the question. She rasped out, "What must be done?" She had no idea what the older woman was talking about. Natalya already said she would view the tapes, see exactly what was done to Alec Trevelyan. What else needed to be done? And then she understood. M wanted her aid, to bring these monsters down, before they could destroy any more lives. She whispered, "You think they are not finished?"

"No. Orlov is, no doubt, up to his old tricks. He's linked to Custos. I don't know the connection between them, but I can't chance more agents falling into traps like the one set for 006 and 007 eighteen years ago. Consider this, Natalya. Orlov has had eighteen years to perfect the initial experiments he conducted upon Alec Trevelyan from 1986 to 1988. Imagine the progress he has made with his memory devices," M replied.

Natalya did indeed consider that, and then took it one step further. M spoke of more agents falling into Orlov's trap, as James and his former partner did. She looked at the other woman, then stated, "More agents." Just those two words and M nodded in acknowledgment. Natalya sat down on the floor, her mind racing. After a moment, she looked up at her unexpected roommate, murmuring, "He has within his grasp a weapon. . .this, this memory device is a weapon within a weapon."

"That is correct. With this memory device, in whatever form he uses now, he has the capacity to create his own army, from enemy agents he has captured. Bond does not yet see that. He cannot allow himself to see it. He is still too blinded by love to understand the implications of what was done to Alec Trevelyan," M answered. Too blinded by love? Yes. Just as she was. She had thought Boris was her friend.

'_He was your friend once. Trevelyan. And now he is your enemy, and you will kill him. It is that simple_.' Her own voice echoed in her head as she stared down at James on the beach. '_In a word. . .yes_.' But it was never that simple.

Even then, she could see the conflict in his eyes. Despite everything, he didn't want to kill Alec Trevelyan. Despite everything, he caught Trevelyan's ankle at the end and held on. Held on, until. . . Until Trevelyan forced him to let go, by reminding him of what was at stake. Not by pleading with James to kill him, but with three words. '_For England, James_?' No, she wasn't there, but she heard about that final confrontation between the two former friends.

Only from love betrayed could such hatred come. She saw it when she looked at both men. Once, they had been like brothers. Pushing aside the question of Orlov and Custos for a moment, she looked up at M, asking, "Do you think they can ever be friends again? James and Trevelyan?" M didn't answer for a long time. Instead, she opened up her laptop, presumably to check her e-mail.

At last, she replied, "That. . .I can't say. They are both stiff-necked, stubborn men. They should be, William Pryce-Meecham trained them both!" There was a hint of humor in her voice, which told the young woman on the floor that there was a great deal of affection for the old agent. M sobered and continued, "Still, love remains, on both side. Bond would never admit it, not in a thousand years, but that love for his younger brother remains. And Trevelyan? His first priority is his wife and children."

She hesitated, and Natalya pressed, "What? What is it? There is something more, isn't there?" M again took her time in answer, fingers tapping away as she answered something that arrived in her e-mail box. The Russian computer programmer took that time to take stock of what she learned. First, and most important, Sebastian Miller and William Pryce-Meecham weren't lying. . .about anything.

Second. . . M said, interrupting her thoughts, "I want you to keep a close eye on Alec Trevelyan's wife and two daughters. I have a feeling they will be important in the days and weeks to come." Meaning? M explained, "Think about it, Natalya. We have found him. It is only a matter of time before Orlov does as well. When he does. . .do you truly think he will let go of his master creation so easily?"

And the best way to Alec Trevelyan was through his wife and daughters. M wasn't finished. She said quietly, "Last night, he told me that he and his wife wanted another child. If my instincts are correct, that wish will come true far sooner than he thinks. She fainted last night. They both say she was simply exhausted after staying up seventy-two hours, taking care of their eight year old daughter. I have had three children, Natalya. I believe she's pregnant again, and either doesn't realize it. . ."

"Or suspects, but hasn't the proof," Natalya completed. M nodded, and Natalya continued, "You wish me to watch over them. And while I'm watching over them, the older daughter will watch me. She doesn't trust me." That, she learned from her talk with the girl. It seemed unlikely that the teenager trusted anyone outside of her family. M offered a reserved smile, but there was amusement in her eyes nonetheless. Natalya guessed that M was already becoming quite fond of the Trevelyan daughters.

"She is very protective of them all . .her father, her sister, and now that protectiveness is being extended to her stepmother. Sabrina Trevelyan is not someone to take lightly. She's very much her father's daughter. Yesterday, when we arrived, Sabrina found her father unconscious in her stepmother's arms. To protect herself and her little sister, that young lady pulled a water gun on double-oh seven," M answered.

It was such an incongruous idea, Natalya burst into laughter. M's eyes crinkled at the corners, as if she wanted to smile, but couldn't. Her expression remained solemn, and after a moment, Natalya asked, "She. . .pulled a water gun on him?" M nodded, and Natalya shook her head. Not to negate what the other woman said, but she simply couldn't wrap her mind around this. She said, "I think you should tell me everything. . ."

* * *

Waiting never came easily to him. With the passage of time, he learned some degree of patience, but it was still not easy for him. At least when he was in the field, there was some knowledge of what would greet him. The knowledge wasn't always pleasant, but it was knowledge, nonetheless, and that knowledge was power. Here, however. . .here, he was at odds. He didn't like being at odds. He didn't like the feeling of being a puppet whose strings were cut. Nor did he like watching Alec quietly talking with his Marines and his operatives. 

He didn't like the entire situation. As if it wasn't bad enough that Alec convinced M and Charles, now James learned that William Pryce-Meecham supported the former 006. It came as no surprise to him, either, that Sebastian Miller was part of whatever William was doing. But what really unnerved him was Natalya's involvement. . .and learning that Alec remembered only pieces of what happened in Russia and Cuba.

The agent remembered Alec's expression during their earlier confrontation, when James told him that he truly did say, '_I always was better, James_.' And the other memories were true as well. He looked shocked. . .his face actually paled, and for a moment, James thought the younger man would collapse right then and there. What frightened himwas the terror that seized his soul at the thought. He wasn't supposed to care what happened to Alec Trevelyan!

But yet. . .for that moment, with Alec's eyes still closed, James almost reached out to his former friend, to anchor him. Then Alec opened his eyes, and the moment was lost, but James remained shaken. None of this was happening the way it was meant to. He wasn't supposed to still care about Alec in any way, shape or form. Alec was supposed to remember every thing and gloat about how close he came to his objective.

And the first words out of Alec's mouth weren't supposed to be, '_what have you done to my wife_?' He was supposed to make a witty comeback. None of this was right, none of this was making sense to James Bond, and he didn't like that one bit. So he sat on the stairs, watching this Alec Trevelyan who was both a different man and the same one whom he knew. He watched and he waited, and tried to make sense of the rabbit's hole he seemed to have fallen into. Eventually, he left the stairs and went to the wet bar.

Some twenty minutes after Rowanne Trevelyan disappeared with William Pryce-Meecham, the pair reappeared. James straightened as she passed, the young woman snapping, "Come with me." William nodded, indicating that he should do as he was told. James followed, his eyes never leaving Alec as he spoke with a group of his operatives. By now, he could tell the difference between the Janus operatives and the Marine detail.

They wore more or less the same uniform. . .but the Marines all wore an American flag as their shoulder patch. There was no such patch for the Janus operatives. During the last few hours, James listened to pieces of conversations between the operatives, and counted several different accents. There were still too many unanswered questions. . .but he had a feeling that was about to change.

Along the way, they picked up Charles Robinson, M and Natalya. James whispered to his former lover, "What are you doing here?" As if he couldn't guess. And it seemed he wasn't quiet enough, because Rowanne Trevelyan shot him a look of pure hatred over her shoulder. She looked somewhat different. . .she showered and changed, her dark hair pulled into a ponytail. That last detail made her look barely olderthan her stepdaughter.

"I came because I heard what 006 and William Pryce-Meecham were saying, about Alec Trevelyan. I came because I believed they were spreading lies, and I thought you would need backup. I haven't forgotten about Miranda Frost, any more than you have, James. I feared you would be betrayed and abandoned yet again. Of course, I shouldn't have worried about you. After all, you're James Bond. . .and you can always find a way out of any spot of trouble," was the bitter retort.

James winced. He replied softly, "I'm glad you came. But I really think you shouldn't watch whatever we're about to see. It's likely to be unpleasant." Wrong thing to say. Natalya stopped in the middle of the hallway and whipped around to face him. Her hands were planted firmly on her hips. He was barely aware of the people in front of him, who turned to watch the confrontation between the former lovers.

"Unpleasant? What would you call what happened at Severnaya? What would you call being betrayed by my friend? What would you call encountering Xenia Onatopp? Or being kissed by Janus? Do you think I enjoyed watching you and Trevelyan fight?" Natalya demanded, adding a few Russian invectives for good measure. A quick glance told him that William understood every word. . .and the old man was greatly amused by the confrontation.

"It's Miss Simonova's choice, Commander Bond. The only one excused from the viewing is Sebastian Miller. . .he's already seen the footage," Rowanne Trevelyan said. James looked at her, a nasty retort on the tip of her tongue. She stared at him steadily, adding, "It's a small price to pay. . . especially since MI-6 wants my husband's help to take down Custos and Orlov. Shouldn't you see what you're up against?"

_Damn her_. James' retort died on his lips. Put like that, she had a point. She gave him another steady look, then kept walking. At the same time, she said, "Mr Robinson, I realize that you and my husband have come to an understanding, and I appreciate that. That being said, you don't have to be here. I won't go against Alec's wishes." _Except perhaps_, James thought a bit cynically, _where I'm concerned_.

"Yes, I do. I'm needed here. I've been told that in addition to the tapes given to you by Xenia Onatopp, there are other, made after your arrival in Puerto Rico," Charles observed. Again, the woman looked over her shoulder, but this time, she smiled. James wondered how Charles came to learn that. The dark agent added, "I had a short talk with one of your Marine protectors. Matthew Tate. He told me about those other tapes."

"You are quite correct, Agent Robinson. There are three tapes, which Xenia Onatopp gave to me in St Petersburg, before we left for Cuba. Each tape is an hour long, and on this first set of tapes is the torture, interrogation, and eventual breaking of Alec Trevelyan," the young woman explained. She paused as she led them into a medium-sized room, and explained, "The second set of tapes deal with Alec's awakening four years ago and his recovery. You'll see that another time. It's as necessary to understand the man whom my husband is now as the torture he endured."

"Why not now? Why later?" M questioned as she took a seat. The young woman didn't answer immediately. She was kneeling in front of the video cassette recorder. In spite of himself, James relaxed a little. He actually preferred the video cassette recorders and players. Trying to work a DVD player was something that he would just as soon leave to someone else. It made no bloody sense to him.

"Because. . .oh, dammit. Let me try this. . .okay, that's better. Because I wanted all of you to have time to recover before dinner this evening. What you willsee is sickening. There is no other way to say it. It is sickening, it is horrible, it is disgusting. But it's what happened, and I have a feeling that the only way a few of you will believe Alec and myself is by watching this," Rowanne Trevelyan answered, rising to her feet.

"I really don't think it's necessary for Natalya to see this," James said once more. He had an uneasy feeling that it would be more than she could bear. The young woman at his side glared at him, and Rowanne folded her arms over her chest. He continued doggedly, ignoring Natalya's punch to his shoulder, "This has nothing to do with her. She was just as much a victim of GoldenEye as anyone, including yourself."

"I repeat, Commander Bond. Miss Simonova is here of her own free will. I'm willing to bet, she's more prepared for what she's about to see than I was. After all, she did live through Severnaya, and she survived being captured twice. . .three times if you count the compound in Cuba," came the reply. James lowered his eyes. Natalya must have looked at their unwilling hostess questioningly, because the woman replied, "I was twenty-three, pregnant, and somewhat. . .naive."

Natalya whispered in Russian under her breath, then glared at James, saying, "Then I can bear whatever I am about to see." James sighed under his breath. So much for protecting her. Natalya continued, "I am ready." The woman in the front of the room nodded, and the lights began to dim. Just a little. James looked over his shoulder, to see a massive Marine. James wasn't short, but this man had at least two or three inches on him.

"Very well. This gentleman is Evan White. He'll change the tapes for you. The first two tapes involve the months of torture. . . the third tape involves the first round of experiments and creating Janus," Rowanne explained. She walked away from the television set, met halfway by the Marine. She said softly, "I'll be in my office, trying to straighten out a few tangles in the files. The usual rules apply, especially where Janus is involved. Call me on my private line if any of them need further information."

"You got it, Juturna. Tate says Dozier has the next shift, and he'll be looking after the girls. I think Janus is in the library," the Marine replied. She smiled at him, patting his wrist, then left the room. James looked back at the screen, which was coming into focus. His heart jumped into his throat as he saw the figure in black, lying on his side in a dingy cell. He was unconscious at first, then began to move, hand going to his head and coming away bloody.

The figure moaned. The audio feed picked up Alec's voice clearly, "finish it, James. . .blow them all to hell. Oh God. I'm alive. Did Ourumov miss?" Another moan, then the door opened and Ourumov entered the room.Alec whispered, sounding thoroughly disgusted, "Bloody hell, 007, you're slipping." James smiled in spite of himself. Ourumov, however, wasn't amused. He drew back his heavily-booted foot and kicked Alec hard in the stomach.

James gritted his teeth, and caught himself swearing to kill Ourumov. Then remembered that he did, indeed, kill Ourumov. The younger agent curled up, gasping in pain, but retorted, "Planning to beat me to death? Best get on with it, then." Ourumov did just that, fists and feet connecting with painful accuracy. Despite the gasps and moans of pain which were torn from his throat, Alec remained steadfast and defiant. . .thus planting the first seeds of doubt in Bond's mind.

* * *

As they were told, the tapes lasted an hour each. . .but in that hour, the first six weeks of Alec Trevelyan's torture were catalogued. It started out simply. . .he was beaten, with the severity of the beating progressing with the passage of time. Despite his gradually-weakening condition, Alec still made wisecracks that would have made his self-appointed 'big brother' proud. While he was always left trembling in agony, they were unable to break him with those beatings. Brute strength would not be the answer to breaking this young man. 

It took them six weeks to learn that. And during those six weeks, Alec Trevelyan was beaten on a daily basis. He wasn't silent during the beatings. In fact, he did cry out, sometimes tearing her heart with his moans. But he remained defiant and he remained loyal. She couldn't imagine a young girl watching this. Least of all Alec Trevelyan's naïve mistress. It was no wonder that she was so ferociously protective of him now.

She watched in horrified silence. Barbara Mawdsley spent time as Elektra King's hostage. And before she took the M position, she viewed tapes of torture. It was necessary for her to know what she was sending her agents into. But this was unlike anything she ever saw before. This was. . .this was barbarism. It was inflicting pain, solely for the pleasure of Alec Trevelyan's assailants. Nine years earlier, before sending Bond on the GoldenEye assignment, M warned him not to make this mission personal. But seeing what she was seeing now, she wondered if she could follow her own advice.

Alec Trevelyan was given no chance to recover from one beating before enduring the next, but he remained defiant. When the third week passed without Alec snapping, they added a new focus to the equation. They began withholding meals from him. Alec, a slim, athletic man under ordinary circumstances, lost a considerable amount of weight. He became dehydrated as well, given just enough water to keep him alive. But not nearly enough to keep him healthy. His voice grew cracked and hoarse as he jeered at his tormentors. So proud. So defiant. So much his father's son. Or so said the disembodied voice on the morning of the fortieth day.

Alec displayed his first reaction, other than defiance, at that. He picked up something and threw it at the camera in the room, the camera recording these atrocities, growling in Russian, "You leave my father out of this! You and your kind, you're just as responsible for his death as the English. But the English have something you don't. . .James Bond. He thinks I'm dead, and he will never stop until he makes you pay!"

M closed her eyes. She remembered what Rowanne told them the night before. It was loyalty to James Bond that kept Alec strong, through the beatings. She saw now that the young woman was right. She heard it in that defiant retort. . .she heard it, too, in the stories that Alec began to tell aloud. It was, no doubt, his attempt to hold onto himself. He talked about growing up in Cornwall, and pretending to be one of Arthur's knights.

He didn't talk about his loneliness while growing up, or of being unloved and unwanted. He talked about finding first James Bond, then a cocky twenty-six year old (he was cocky then. . .what did Trevelyanthink he was now?). He spoke of a painfully shy young college graduate, of himself, and his joy at finding someone who bothered to look past the defenses he constructed for himself. And William. He talked about William.

Never did the words 'brother' or 'father' pass his lips, but they were there, nonetheless. As the tape wound down, and Alec suffered through yet another beating, M tore her eyes from the screen, listening instead to Alec's defiant words. She looked at Natalya Simonova, who was weeping, one hand pressed against her mouth. Yes, that was to be expected. Though she learned a great deal during GoldenEye, and since, in some ways, she was still very innocent.

M's eyes drifted next to Charles Robinson, who looked stricken. Rowanne Trevelyan made reference to an understanding between him and Alec Trevelyan. Charles must have realized that they were speaking the truth the night before, and though he prepared himself for what he would see. . . sometimes, there could be no preparation. M wondered if she could have made the same choices, years before, when Elektra King was being held captive, knowing what she knew now. It was a question that would probably haunt her for the rest of her life.

She looked now at William Pryce-Meecham. The elder statesman of the group, as it were, and his face could have been carved from granite. That was very telling in and of itself. He was trying to hide his emotions, and succeeding rather brilliantly. She wasn't fooled, however. She knew the facade for what it was, knew that William wanted nothing more than to reach through the television screen and rip out the throat of the men currently beating and tormenting his surrogate son.

Finally, her eyes shifted to the final member of the small group. He was, in many ways, the most important one, for it was with Bond that Alec Trevelyan shared the greatest connection. As she told Natalya, Bond loved Trevelyan as a younger brother, as a dear friend. And regardless of what Bond thought, that love remained. Janus could not destroy it. . .she was willing to bet that nothing could. But the friendship. . .ahh, that was a different story.

They betrayed each other unwillingly, and trust was shattered on both sides. If MI-6 was to destroy Custos and Orlov, the agency would need both Bond and Trevelyan. But while Trevelyan was somewhat easy for her to read, though she just met him the previous night, Bond was another story. His face was as stony as William's, and it was anyone's guess what that meant. It could mean that like William, he was struggling to hold his rage in check. Or, it could simply mean. . .ahh, there was no way to know.

M looked back at the screen. The first tape was now complete, and the big man walked from the back of the room. As he did, Natalya wiped away her tears and asked, "What did she mean earlier, when she said that the usual rules applied to Janus?" That was actually a very good question, but M didn't ask at the time. Evan White knelt in front of the VCR. At first, it seemed as if he wouldn't answer.

Then he replied, "Janus has never seen these tapes. He's not ready to see them, I think. I know that when he got most of his memories back two years ago, Juturna offered to show the tapes to him. He refused. Juturna was just reminding me that if Janus comes into the room, I'm not to stop the tape." M raised an eyebrow as the man finished putting in the second tape. He rose to his feet, explaining, "All of us have seen the tapes, you see. Juturna wanted us to know, wanted us to understand, and she had Janus's permission. But he. . .he doesn't remember the torture. And he's never seen the tapes. Some of us would like it to stay that way."

It was Charles who said hoarsely, "You want to protect him." White nodded, and Charles continued, "And all of you have seen this, as part of your. . .orientation?" Again, the Marine nodded and Charles murmured something under his breath that M couldn't understand. Then he added, "A lot of things make sense now. I thought she was just being overprotective. . .but now that I've seen this. . ."

"It gets worse," Evan White said grimly, "a lot worse. Before I start the second tape, I'll explain a few things. The tape you just saw isn't the original. You probably realize that, from the way the time stamps jumped ahead in time. That first tape is the culmination of six weeks worth of tapes. There's a fourth tape, which Juturna may ask you to view later, which shows the capture eighteen years ago, from security cameras inside the weapons facility."

He paused, then added, "And it ain't pretty, neither." Yes, of that, M had no doubt. White continued, "Juturna also told me that I could take as much time for questions as necessary. She kinda figured that y'all would have a lot of questions about what you were seeing." That was also true, but M felt that her questions could wait until later. The longer she had to wait for the next tape, the more uneasy she became.

But Natalya Simonova had one last question, and when M heard it, she couldn't believe it never occurred to her. The young woman said, her emotions under control once more, "There is one thing I do not understand. I was told that Alec Trevelyan was badly scarred when the weapons facility blew up in 1986. Why, then, is his face unmarked in these tapes?" M turned to face the computer programmer, stunned. Of course. . .that was what seemed wrong to her!

Evan White looked away, then answered in a low voice, "You'll need to keep watching to find out the answer to that question." With that, he aimed the remote at the VCR player and the picture snapped to life. But M couldn't get the question out of her mind quite that easily. If Alec Trevelyan wasn't scarred when the weapons factory blew up. . .then when did it happen? And more to the point. . ._how_ did it happen?

* * *

After leaving her. . .guests. . .Rowanne returned to her office. A quick glance told her that Sebastian Miller was entertaining Sassy and Sabrina, with only a little help from Matthew Tate. Well, at the moment, Sebastian was entertaining Sabrina, while Matthew was playing 'horsie' for Sassy. Complete with the neighing sounds and rearing back. She bit back a smile and shook her head. Boys. She was surrounded by overgrown little boys, and she wouldn't have it any other way. 

Rowanne worked on the personnel sheets for a half hour, before finally giving up. _Bloody pain in the ass_, she thought, never recognizing how much she sounded like her husband. After saving the worksheet,she decidedto head to the library. As Evan said she would, she found her husband there. Then again, out of all the Marines, Evan was the one who was the most protective of Alec. He always knew exactly where his boss was.

Rowanne took a moment to watch him, a slight smile playing about her lips. He was seated on the floor, fingers dancing across the keyboard of his laptop. While his back was to her, Rowanne was willing to bet that his lower lip was caught between his teeth as he concentrated. His head was bent, so that she only saw the tense muscles of his neck and shoulders, as well as wet blond hair.

_He probably took a quick swim after I took the others to the multimedia room_, she thought. Alec did that sometimes, to clear his head. He found solace in the water. . .whether it was in the shower or in the pool, it didn't matter. She moved quietly into the room and slid to her knees behind him, kneading his shoulders. He groaned a little, leaning back. Rowanne kissed the side of his head, saying softly, "You're too tense, love. Why don't you sit in a chair?"

"I'm more comfortable on the floor," came the reply. She rolled her eyes. _Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn_. Then again, she supposed she wouldn't love him nearly as much as she did if he wasn't stubborn. She pressed a light kiss along the side of his neck, then began to knead his shoulders again. Slowly, he began to relax, and he murmured, "How many more surprises are in store for us, Rowanne? For four years, we've had peace. . .relatively speaking. . .but things keep cropping up."

Rowanne didn't answer. Alec was trying to work something out in his mind. He continued after a moment, "First, they show up. I knew James wouldn't forgive me. I can't blame him, because I haven't forgiven myself. But more memories are coming loose, and I really don't want them. I. . .I had a flashback, this afternoon in the shower. Of telling James that I was always better. Of other memories from GoldenEye. I don't know the man who did those things, who said those things."

Still, she made no comment. It wasn't necessary. Alec didn't need her to say anything. He went on, "Up until James. . .until I saw him again, what Janus was doing didn't seem real. Do you understand? It wasn't really me, it was someone else controlling me. And it hurt to know what was happening, but not nearly as much as it hurt, knowing what Janus was doing to James. He hated James, and he hated you. He wanted to destroy you, because you were innocent when we weren't. Not anymore."

Rowanne's fingers found a particularly tight knot, and Alec groaned again. It was softer this time, but Alec's hand came back and closed around her wrist. It was a sign to stop, and she released him, scooting around on her knees. Alec went on, still holding her wrist, "Do you understand? I tried to _kill_ the man who was my best friend! I remember, Rowanne. I remember stomping on his fingers, to make him fall. I remember that rage, directed at James. But I wasn't angry with him, and I wasn't angry with you."

She leaned forward, kissing his forehead, and whispered against his skin, "It wasn't you. It was Janus. I wish to God I could take this from you, I wish I could carry this for you. But all I can do, Alec, is love you. . .and hope that's enough." It was one thing she learned from her conversation with William earlier. She could only do so much. Alec had to do the rest, and that was the part that was killing her.

Unexpectedly, Alec smiled at her. He kissed the inside of her wrist, then kissed the palm of her hand, and replied, "There will never be a time when it's not good enough. You. . .I'm not telling you this to hurt you. I would die before I would willingly hurt you. You, or the girls. But I. . ." Enough talking. Alec was only upsetting himself now. She cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to look straight at her.

"My turn, Alec. I'm a lot tougher than I look, remember? I know that there are some things you have to do for yourself. . .and some things, that I have to do for myself. I know you want to avoid hurting me and the girls. If it was up to you, we wouldn't be hurt at all. . .but there are some things we can't control, and that includes the behavior of others," she replied.

Alec, surprisingly, didn't interrupt her. Surprised, but relieved, Rowanne continued, "We can't help what Orlov, or this Custos might do. And we have no control over Bond, or anyone else. We can only control. . .well, what we can control. Ourselves. Our daughters. Our people. If you think for one millisecond that Orlov, or Janus, or Custos, or anyone else can make me stop loving you, then you don't know me very well. I know about it all, Alec. . .and I'm still here."

She paused, then said the words she hoped she wouldn't regret, "Maybe it's time you saw the tapes for yourself, Alec. I've seen what they did to you. . .maybe once you see what they did to you, you'll have an easier time accepting what I've told you." _Maybe then you can forgive yourself_. _Maybe then. . ._ Alec went very still, his green eyes searching her face. With a sigh, he leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. Rowanne removed her hands from his face, and wrapped her arms around him.

"It's time," he murmured, his eyes closed, "I've put this off for two years. I can't do it any longer, not if I want to protect you and the girls." They kept circling back to that. Protecting the girls. Protecting her. While she and William were in her office, talking, she told him everything that happened up to that point. During their conversation, William made a very interesting statement, to the effect that the Alec Trevelyan he saw was an echo of another man.

The Alec Trevelyan he saw wasn't a superspy, but a husband and father who was more capable of protecting his family than most men. _This_, he told her, _isn't a bad thing_. He knew that Alec feared how William would react, but there was no need. There was nothing wrong with thinking as a husband and father. It kept him human. And all his life, all Alec ever truly wanted was someone to love and to love him. In some ways, that made him far more vulnerable than James. James grew up with his parents for a time, with his uncle and his aunt. But Alec? Alec had no one. Only himself.

A truth that made him strong. . .and fragile at the same time. James had resources that Alec didn't have. And though James Bond did love him, according to William, he could never love him the way Rowanne did. Rowanne wasn't so sure that Bond loved her husband. It amazed her, that William could talk so easily about the subject. Even now, after nearly ten years together, Alec still couldn't say '_I love you_.' He showed her, in a thousand ways, but couldn't say the words.

But, as William said, he was an old soldier. He didn't have the time or the energy for that stiff upper lip. Maybe that was why she liked him. . .one of many reasons. After the second time he told her that, she responded that young Marines could be just as sentimental as old soldiers. He roared with laughter at that remark. But it was true, and she knew it. On a number of levels, their Marines defined the phrase 'tough but tender.'

At last, Alec pulled back and opened his eyes. There were times when he opened his eyes andshe feared she would see Janus there. But only once had Janus made his presence known. . .and Alec brutally suppressed that part of him ever since. He rasped out, "Wait for me. Wait for me in your office. It's time I did this." Rowanne nodded and Alec brushed his lips across her forehead, then pushed himself to his feet. She remained kneeling as he lightly caressed her face, then moved silently from the room. On her knees was a good place to be. . .she needed to pray, to whomever would listen. Pray that her husband would come through this latest trial. And all the others to come.


	10. Seeing Isn't Always Believing

I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack! I'm so sorry it's been so long since I updated. . .I didn't touch my computer for two weeks after I got back from Hawaii. The good news is, aside from my last day (which seems to have traumatized all of my muses), I had a glorious time, and another sequel has been added to my 006 series. More details on that later.

Before I get to the reviews (I apologize in advance. . .I don't like leaving anyone out), I have a question. A while back, I was asked a question. . .why are we so attracted to Alec Trevelyan? I've been having a hard time answering this question, so I thought I'd ask the rest of you. For me, I think it's a combination of the vulnerability we see in him several times during the film, his seeming reluctance to kill James, and a niggling doubt that he truly defected after Arkangel. So. Why is Alec Trevelyan so special to you?

Oh yes, and an addition to the disclaimer: James' musings about his uncle being brainwashed into attacking the previous M comes from the book, _The Man With The Golden Gun_. Which I have been trying to read. But given this story, I couldn't NOT include it.

Also, special thanks go to Iolana, for her help in making sure I didn't go too far with the torture, the love scenes. . .or turn our beloved Alec into a wimp.

Reviews:

Terreis: Okay, Mel, technically you didn't review this last chapter, but since you're always so great about serving as a sounding board. . .you deserved a mention. Besides, given how the last few weeks have been for you. . . Hugs to your family, and tell Elyse she has a package coming.

Rhivanna: Thank you, I'm so glad you love my story! I adore your quotes. . .another Steve MacDonald fan. YEA! Another Boromir/Alec/Ian fan! YEA! Yes, Sabrina is far more like her father than she realizes. Far more than anyone, including Alec himself, realizes. I love your story, and I can't wait to see what comes next.

Elenhin: Hi Starchild! I was wondering when you would make your way to this one. I haven't seen you around my _LOTR_ fic lately (admittedly, I haven't updated for a while, but Boromir has been difficult). You'll get no argument from me. . .I adore Sean Bean and have for years. (Even if I hated his character in the first movie I saw). I will admit, I struggled with Bond's reaction to the tapes, far more than I did with Alec.

Daughter of Olorin (ch 1): Really, I'm not actually a James Bond fan myself. I loved Pierce Brosnan movies (although I hated _The World is Not Enough_), but like so many others, I just can't stay away from 006. Please, no apologies necessary for waiting so long to read it. I know people who don't go near a story 'til it's finished.

Daughter of Olorin (ch 2): While the theory that James Bond isn't one person isn't new, I think I'm the first one who has come up with the idea that the James Bond we see starting in _GoldenEye_ is related in some way to the original. If anyone else has done that, I don't know about it. As for the ultimate reason why Alec was the target. . .I'm afraid you'll have to wait a while for that.

Daughter of Olorin (ch 3): Honestly, given what happened in _GoldenEye_ and Alec's profession even before his capture, there's no way I could have made things all cotton candy and bunnies. He was a double-oh agent, with the license to kill. . .and he couldn't afford to be 'nice.' (giggles) And the water pistol has proven to be very popular. I just couldn't resist, not after imagining the look on Bond's face when he realized this child was holding a water pistol, of all things, on him.

Daughter of Olorin (ch 4): Yeah, Jack usually calls Alec 'Al' and Rowanne 'Ro.' (Personally, I think she got the better end of that deal). Given the way he regularly (and cheerfully) mutilated Bond's name, he would probably do the same to Alec and Rowanne. In truth, most of my recent stories have had couples starting under circumstances that either as dark as Alec and Rowanne's first meeting, or even darker. (Notable exceptions are Ian and Jocelyn, in my _National Treasure_ fic _Heart Bound in Chains_, and Ardeth and Celia in my _Mummy_ fics)

Daughter of Olorin (ch 5): Thank you for your comments regarding my grammar and spelling. My sophomore English teacher would kick my butt if I wasn't careful, given the amount of effort he put into making sure we could write proper grammar. I'm glad Alec's resurrection didn't come across as deux ex machina. I try to avoid that as much as possible And before I forget again. . .I LOVE your pen name! Gandalf rocks! (But then, so does Boromir)

Daughter of Olorin (ch 6): Sabrina and Rowanne are definitely growing closer, and they will continue to do so. So glad someone noticed Sabrina referring to Rowanne as 'mum.' Bond has been difficult for me to write in this story, but I wanted to make sure it was believable. He has believed for the last nine years that his best friend, his little brother, betrayed him and everything they believed in. It's not so easy to let that go, and let down his guard, even once he accepts the truth.

Daughter of Olorin (ch 7): I'm not sure if I mentioned it earlier, but yes. . .Alec's birth father was named 'Vesseney.' According to the research I did, it is the Cossack equivalent of 'Vincent.' I can't take credit for Wade, as I'm just going by the outlines laid down for him in _GoldenEye_ and _Tomorrow Never Dies_. . .but Matthew is proving to be a lot of fun to write. And Natalya flat-out told me to include the scared children remark. I don't argue with Miss Natalya.

Daughter of Olorin (ch 8): You know, I loved that line in the movie as well. Yeah, I know exactly what you mean about Janus. Sure, I know that Bond villains routinely underestimate Our Hero, but for crying out loud! Alec was once a double-oh agent (and did you notice, he still wore his Q-invented watch?). . .not only that, but James was his best friend. He, of all people, knew what James could do. It makes no sense for him to keep putting James in situations that he knew James had a good chance of escaping. And the whole 'For England, James?' Helllo! You are hanging upside down, the only between you and a long drop and a sudden stop (thank you, Commodore James Norrington) is your former best friend's hand, and you deliberately say something guaranteed to tick him off? Uh. . .no. Nope, Alec said that so James would let him go, and put a stop to Janus once and for all. (giggles) Sebastian often writes his own dialogue and the 'take us to your leader?' was no different. There's actually more to the whole Orlov thing, but you'll find that out at the end of the story. No harm done. . .while I usually wait until I'm fully awake to post a story, sometimes, a mistake slips through, and I figured that was what happened in that case.

Daughter of Olorin (ch 9): Whew! And now I'm caught up! Things, of course, will not be easy for some time between James and Alec. I'm trying to decide just how bad things get before Janus decides to show up (oops. . .minor, itsy-bitsy spoiler there). And no, Alec's scars did not come from the factory explosion. . .full explanation in this section. Thank you so much for your in-depth reviews. Those are my favorite kind. I do apologize for not covering everything in my responses. To everyone else. . .thank you for waiting. I just didn't want to leave anyone out.

Caught in the Game Again

Part Nine

Seeing Isn't Always Believing

Alec left his wife kneeling on the floor, her head bowed. As he reached the door, he stopped and turned, looking at Rowanne. The ex-agent resisted the impulse to turn back, to kiss the nape of her neck. Resisted, but just barely. Instead, he quietly left the library and headed for the one section of the house that he generally avoided. The media room, where the tapes of his torture and interrogation could be found. He wished there was a way to prepare himself for what would come. Oh, he viewed interrogations in the past. But never his own.

_I don't know if I'm strong enough to do this_, he thought, able to admit the truth to himself, if not to anyone else. _I don't know, but I have to do this. The ones who created Janus, they're coming, and I've got to be ready. I was unprepared the last time. I can't afford any more mistakes. I have to be ready. . .my wife saw those tapes, and the world of espionage was totally alien to her. I can't do any less. I have to take the chance that what I'll see on those tapes will bring back Janus. . .permanently_.

Alec didn't want that to happen. He almost lost Rowanne and Sassy the first time Janus was freed. For that matter, he didn't want any of this. But the dark djinn was released from its bottle, and now they had to deal with it as best as they could. Besides, if he was truly honest with himself, he had to admit, he was looking forward to payback. Janus' creators put him through hell. . .him, and too many people who mattered to Alec. He sighed, turning his face up to the sun as it filtered into the house. Coming from the darkness into the light. He smiled in spite of himself. The light. Alec was continuously amazed how the senses could bring forth memories. He closed his eyes, inhaling a little as the sensations swamped over him. But he didn't fight these memories, for two reasons. One. . .he knew he needed the strength to watch what was ahead of him. And two. . .two, these were good memories. A faint smile teased the corners of his mouth. Yes, very good memories!

He was passing the sun room. Sitting just inside the door was a chaise lounge, currently covered in plastic. The fabric was starting to fall apart, and they kept forgetting to have it redone. That chaise lounge, and the smell of the air, took him back more than three years. His memory was still Swiss-cheese (term provided by Rowanne, who was fascinated by the television _Quantum Leap_), but in all truth, he didn't give a damn.

At this time, they were still at the old compound. Talk of rebuilding this house was still just that, talk. Sabrina wasn't with them. He knew very few facts about Rowanne or Sassy. And again, he didn't care. He concentrated only on healing and regaining his strength. At the old compound, that lounge was placed outside, in a space that was protected from the sun but still warmed by its rays. Alec enjoyed lying outside. By this time, he was walking more or less on his own. He still had dizzy spells, especially when he tried to do too much, but for the most part, Alec was independent. Many times, he would go outside during the afternoon and read a book he borrowed from Rowanne. . .even falling asleep on occasion.

That wasn't the case on this particular day. Alec managed to read three chapters before resting. He lay his book down on his chest and sighed quietly. The only sounds he could hear was the calls of the birds and the sound of the surf. Alec was drowsy, nearly asleep, when he sensed that he was no longer alone. The blond-haired man opened his eyes to see Rowanne leaning against the door, arms folded over her chest. She wore what was quickly becoming his favorite outfit. . .an emerald green skirt and white peasant blouse. Her hair was loose and damp. . .she either showered or went swimming. Each was an equal bet, for a quick glance from head to toe told him that she was also barefoot. He asked a bit hoarsely, "How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long. You looked so peaceful, I didn't want to disturb you," Rowanne told him with a faint smile. Alec didn't really think about what he was doing. . .he just reached out his hand to her. She walked over to the chaise lounge, her body blocking out the sun momentarily, and took his hand, sitting down beside him. Rowanne looked at the book, her smile broadening as she cocked her head to one side, and requested in a teasing voice, "Please don't tell me that the book put you to sleep. . . it's one of my favorites!"

"It didn't," Alec defended. . .though he wasn't sure if he was defending himself or the book, "the sun did!" Rowanne grinned impishly and Alec added almost sheepishly, "I hope you don't mind." She told him many times in the past that unless he went into the book stash under her bed, he was free to borrow anything he liked. She just laughed, shaking her head. Alec relaxed, albeit briefly. Perhaps it was his own sleepy state, or the warmth of the sun, but he asked a question that long troubled him, "Rowanne? Were. . .were we lovers?"

Her smile faded a little, though none of the warmth in her expression did. It was an odd expression, actually. She looked. . .surprised. Not upset, as such. But surprised. And after a moment, she nodded. Alec felt something loosen in his chest. That explained so much. So many things didn't quite add up, with the information he had at his disposal. But now. . .yes, a lot more things made sense now. He went on, "Is that why you saved my life? Because we were lovers. . .before?"

"It had a bearing, yes. There were a lot of reasons, really. We were lovers, that was one reason," Rowanne told him. Alec nodded, accepting this. Seldom did Rowanne have just one reason for doing something. This, he learned in the time since his awakening. There was another question to be answered. . .if he and Rowanne were lovers, was he Sassy's father? However, Alec wasn't ready to hear the answer to that question. Sassy's mother continued, "And. . .well, and I know what was done to you. I couldn't have lived with myself if I let you die." That statement worried him a little. . . what did she mean, what was done to him? Before he could ask, however, Rowanne had one of her own for him, asking, "Do you remember?"

"Not. . .memories. More like. . .flashes. I see you under me. . .feel you," Alec answered honestly. More or less. He just didn't understand the emotions he felt. . .or rather, the emotions he remembered feeling. Rowanne shifted a little, picking up the book and marking his place, then set it aside. She turned her full attention back to him, and Alec was embarrassed to realize that his shirt was mostly open. Embarrassed and. . . He inhaled sharply as Rowanne touched his chest, her hand small and warm against his skin. One thumb began tracing his pectoral muscles, and Alec whispered, "Do you. . .do you think, then. . .that we. . .?"

Rowanne's touch was doing the strangest things to his body. It wasn't as if she never touched him before. He remembered, when he first woke up, feeling her fingers comb through his hair. Then, her touch comforted him. Told him that he wasn't alone, that someone would be strong for him when his own strength failed. But now. . .now, even though he wasn't entirely sure what he was saying, Rowanne seemed to understand. Her thumb stopped its gentle motion, and she asked quietly, "Do you want to?"

"_Yes_."

The word was out before he could stop. But it was true. During the last few weeks, his desire for her became steadily stronger. Alec kept quiet, because he feared that she didn't feel the same way. And he didn't think he had the right to ask such a thing of her. Until it occurred to him that perhaps they were lovers in the past. Now, he cursed himself for being five kinds of a fool. She wanted him, too. . .he could see it now in her eyes. A long-banked desire that set his heart racing and turned his blood to lava.

His free hand reached up and tentatively touched her face, the first time he could remember ever truly touching her. His fingers caressed the line of her jaw, the outline of her lips, the curve of her cheekbones. She smiled at him, a sweet, sexy smile that sent a fresh spasm of need through his nether regions. Swiss-cheese memory or not, Alec was sure he would remember if a woman's smile ever had that effect on him. He slid his wandering fingers up along her face, before running the suddenly sensitive digits through her hair. Alec gasped a little as she bent her head to kiss him.

Silk. . .he hadn't imagined that her hair would feel like silk. Of course he always thought she had beautiful hair, especially when it was loose about her shoulders, rather than pulled back into a ponytail, but. . . He. . . Alec stopped thinking. He didn't fight the waves of desire. Nor did he fight the small moan of need, of want, of. . .

Regret. Rowanne broke the kiss, breathing heavily, and rested her head on his chest. His heart was thundering now, racing. Why had she broken the kiss? Well, yes, Alec's own breathing was rather ragged, but. . . It didn't matter. He kept telling himself that as he slid his fingers through her hair. Rowanne pressed a kiss to his chest, a light brushing of her lips, and Alec inhaled sharply. If she planned to do that, breaking the kiss would not be a problem, because the rest of his body was aching for the same treatment!

_Steady, old boy_, he told himself, trying to believe in his words, _there's plenty of time for this_. And when he could finally breathe without hyperventilating (no mean feat, that), he whispered, "Was that. . .was that like it was before?" She shook her head, without ever changing position. He wondered how she did that, then decided it was probably one of those things about women that he would likely never understand. Which was, now that he thought about it, probably for the best.

"Do you want. . .you'll have to turn over. Rephrase. We'll have to turn over," Rowanne answered. Alec closed his eyes. Was that what he wanted? He really didn't know what he wanted, if he was to be truly honest. He had no idea how long it was since he was with a woman, even before the accident that stole his memory. Alec sighed a little as Rowanne trailed kisses along the side of his jaw, before finally brushing his lips again. She murmured, "Or, we could continue from where we left off a moment ago."

Alec decided he liked that idea a lot better. He remembered almost nothing of his previous life, but there was something seductive about this drowsy, languid mood. Something seductive. . .something erotic. Something sensual. Maybe it was the sun's rays, or maybe it was the young woman lying next to him on the lounge. But he trusted Rowanne implicitly. After five years in a coma, and one year of regaining his strength. . .not trusting her wasn't even an option. He whispered, "What about Sassy?"

"Sassy? Sassy has gone into town with Grandpa Jack. They will likely be there all day. And when they come back, she'll probably be asleep after conning Grandpa Jack into carrying her for the last hour," Rowanne said, her voice rich with laughter and affection. Alec smiled himself, easily imagining the big, bluff Texan wrapped around the tiny pinkie finger of the five year old. Rowanne continued, her voice dropping, "So. . .the house is ours. The guys know better than to disturb us out here."

It was on the tip of his tongue, to ask her why they knew better, but Rowanne pushed aside the edges of his shirt to explore. With the first touch, she promptly drove all thoughts of anything out of his head. . .anything aside from her. Alec sank into the lounge, his hands going to Rowanne's hips for support and stability. And through the thin fabric of her skirt, he could feel as well. He could feel the warmth of her skin, the shape of her legs. Even. . . He moaned a little as Rowanne unleashed a double-pronged attack against his sanity. Her fingers and lips were mapping his torso, but his mind went mercifully blank as he finally realized something very important. Rowanne was wearing only her blouse and skirt. . .nothing else. Nothing underneath.

Little made sense after that. Only color and sensation, breathy moans and soft sighs of pleasure. Caress matched for caress, kiss matched for kiss. And in spite of more than five years of inactivity, Alec forgot nothing. Or rather, his body forgot nothing. Then there was an explosion of red and gold, blue and green. With that fireworks display of sensation, for a moment of eternity, there was no Alec and no Rowanne. There was just one being, fused together with passion and yes, with tenderness.

When Alec came back to himself, when he was capable of rational thought once more, the sun was higher in the sky, and Rowanne was asleep in his arms. He didn't remember falling asleep. . .didn't remember much of anything after their joined bodies went supernova. And yet, here they were. The sun was higher, but there seemed to be a light breeze, chilling Alec's sweat-covered body. Rowanne's breath was soft against his damp skin, her body half on the chaise lounge, half lying on top of him. But Alec found he didn't mind at all. He stroked her hair lightly, and Rowanne mumbled something he couldn't understand and wasn't sure he should try.

Did it really matter, after all? Alec had no idea how long it was since he was with a woman, before the accident that almost claimed his life. His body protested a little at the soreness of his muscles, but this felt too good for him to mind. He closed his eyes, sighing quietly. The motion woke Rowanne, who murmured, "Alec? Are you all right?" Odd that she would ask that. Then again, his shorts were pushed to his ankles, and her body was conveniently covering his own. Which left him in a very interesting position, because what if one of the men who seemed to guard this place came back here? Either way, this could get embarrassing.

However, he only answered, "I'm fine. Are you all right? Did I hurt you?" She raised her head to look at him, her eyes barely open. Her sleepy expression sent another jolt of desire through him, and Alec swallowed hard. Rowanne smiled a little, though whether it was because she could feel his reaction to her or because of something else. . .well, that was anyone's guess. Alec would have never put it in such terms, but for all intents and purposes, with his memory gone, he was a virgin. This was all so new to him.

"I'm fine, sweetheart, but I really think we should take this inside. It's getting a little chilly out here," Rowanne answered. She shifted her body carefully, keeping her eyes focused on his. Alec found he now had enough room to pull his shorts back up. Now, if he could just keep his eyes focused on her face, instead of. . .elsewhere. Rowanne continued, distracting him from the sight of her legs through the gauzy skirt, "Would you like to take this to my bedroom? I think my bed can fit both of us."

"I think we would both be much more comfortable," he admitted with a shy smile. His shorts were back up, and Rowanne shifted once more, this time moving herself off him and off the chaise lounge. She held her hand out to him, and Alec took it. He paused long enough to draw her into his arms and kiss her. Still recovering from the wondrous experience she had just given him, it was the only way Alec knew to say what he wanted to say. '_Thank you'_ seemed so cheap for what just happened between them. She returned the kiss just as passionately. He felt himself drowning in that kiss, but it didn't matter. Rowanne wouldn't let anything happen to him. And he. . .he wouldn't let anything happen to her. He _couldn't_ let anything happen to her.

The kiss was broken, and still holding onto each other's hands like a pair of children, the pair went to her bedroom. As Rowanne promised, there was more than enough room for them both in the big bed. They made love for hours, not once disturbed by the men, or Jack Wade, or Sassy. Alec was aware, as his head was pillowed on Rowanne's chest, that this was a little. . .odd. Wasn't it his job to protect her, to take care of her? Wasn't it his responsibility to hold her as she slept? And yet, much to his chagrin, he kept falling asleep in her arms, her fingers stroking his hair.

Back in the present, Alec ran his fingers over the chaise lounge once more. That wasn't the last time they made love there. In fact, it was for that reason (among others) that the chaise was falling apart. Alec murmured, "If I live through this, you have my word. We won't neglect you any more. But right now, people have to be my priority, not things." Still holding onto the memories of making love with his wife, before she was his wife and before he realized he had fallen in love with her, Alec took a deep breath and left the sun room to meet his fate.

* * *

It took a little longer to start the second tape. Technical difficulties, according to their 'host.' Personally, M thought the others were just as reluctant as she was to watch what came next. She was all too aware that it was the least she owed to Alec Trevelyan, but that didn't make her eager to see what else Orlov and his pet generals did to him. Natalya was just as reluctant, and she had what seemed like a thousand questions for Evan White. 

M had to give the big man credit. He answered every question with remarkable patience. He already saw this tape, he knew what was coming. He saw what was done to his boss. And there were times when she was sure the only thing that kept White from lashing out was his promise to his female employer to see this through. He didn't like them. Any of them. The only ones for whom he showed real respect was William Pryce-Meecham and Charles. Everyone else, he tolerated, though just barely. In some ways, his attitude toward them reminded her of her own attitude toward Damian Falco.

William told her about his encounter with the young guard upon his arrival. How the boy labeled the representatives of MI-6 as 'troublemakers,' and threatened to kill them all if they further harmed either of his employers. There was no doubt whatsoever in William's mind that the young man meant it. M didn't doubt it, either. She. . .oh. Evan White rose slowly to his feet, his face looking like it had been chiseled from stone, and said quietly, "Here we go." Oh dear heaven. She swallowed hard, as the picture came into focus. Aslender body hung by its wrists from a fan in the middle of the room. M's blood ran cold. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes briefly, hoping she was imagining this.

She wasn't the only one. M opened her eyes as Natalya murmured, "Nyet." But it was indeed Alec Trevelyan hanging there. Natalya, never tortured herself, had already grasped the point of this particular exercise. Alec wore no shirt, showing the terrible bruises around his ribs and waist. His arms, held in that position, would put more pressure on his already-broken ribs. That wasn't taking into account any internal injuries. It was so simple, but devastatingly efficient. No doubt, it was drawn from the torture techniques of the Middle Ages.

Barbara Mawdsley blinked back tears, seeing the bruises marking Alec's body and even the bruises on his face, in spite of the now-long blond hair and the thickening beard. She bit her lip, hearing his soft moans of pain. The mother in her made her whisper, "Oh, the poor boy." And the agent in her, bean counter or not, swore to avenge this. Oh yes. She understood all too well, and wished she could comfort Natalya.

The young woman again whispered, "Nyet. . .nyet." M couldn't see the younger woman's face, but she was certain there were tears running down her face, and she was equally certain that Natalya was shaking her head. All the denial in the world would not make it go away, though. What they were seeing could not be undone.

Ourumov entered the room, one of his men right behind him. M blinked back her tears, focusing on the second man. Ourumov was beyond her reach, but if there was a way she could make any of his henchmen pay, she would. Ourumov said something which M didn't understand. It wasn't in Russian. However, Alec did understand and spat out a reply, summoning enough energy to kick Ourumov hard in the face. Surprisingly, Natalya actually giggled and at her side, 007 whispered, "What is it?"

"He told Ourumov to kiss his Cossack arse," Natalya replied, still giggling. The laughter stopped briefly, then she murmured, "But on the train, Ourumov seemed surprised when you said Trevelyan was a Lienz Cossack." The Russian barked a command, and the man just inside the door reached over to flick a switch. The switch, M realized with horror, was for the fan. It began turning slowly, carrying Alec Trevelyan with it. He screamed in pain. The sadist operating the camera zoomed in, forcing those watching this to see the agony in the agent's face. Alec's eyes were squeezed shut, and he was mouthing something over and over again.

This time, it was 007 who whispered, "Forgive me, James, forgive me." Alec screamed again as the fan picked up speed. M's oldest child, Justin, was obsessed with _Star Trek_, the original series, when he was growing up. Sometimes, when she needed a break from paperwork, M would join him as he watched the adventures of Captain James T. Kirk. What was being done to Alec Trevelyan now reminded M of an episode she saw, though she couldn't think why. It was too long ago, and the details long since faded from her mind.

The door opened and closed, revealing a man perhaps ten years older than his captive. He was around the same height as 007, with black hair and handsome features. 007 spat, "Orlov!" M memorized his face, so she would know him when she saw him next. He was twenty years older, but she was a reasonably good artist. She would draw his likeness and send it to Moneypenny to go through the aging program. This was the man who duped them. This was the man who used her agents.

On the screen, Orlov snapped in Russian, "Ourumov! Enough! Slow the fan down!" With an expression that could be best described as sulky, the so-called 'Iron Man' did just that, signaling someone the viewers couldn't see, and the fan began slowing down. A chair was dragged over and Orlov climbed up, catching Alec's torso as the fan brought the half-conscious agent to him. The young man gave a low moan and his head slumped forward even further. He had, mercifully, lost consciousness.

Robinson murmured, "He used it as a shield. Trying to buy himself time." What? She looked at Charles, who explained, "He would allow himself to lose consciousness. I noticed it earlier. In the beginning, they would wake him up, but then they lost interest. I think Orlov feared they would damage him too badly. Alec noticed this, and instead of trying to simply endure the beatings, and the torture, he would allow himself to lose consciousness. That was part of how he stayed Alec for so long. He used whatever tools they unwittingly gave him."

"Sneaky, my lad. . .very sneaky," William murmured, but there was no mistaking the pride in his voice. M agreed. By using a means that some would have considered cowardly, Alec protected MI-6 for as long as he could. The more she watched, the easier it was to believe that the boy who went to Russia with 007 eighteen years earlier did not betray them willingly. He may have hated England for leaving his parents to die. But to betray England meant betraying James Bond. And now, M realized that Alec would never willingly betray his friend.

Now the tears she fought were tears of pride. Alec Trevelyan wasn't one of her agents, but she was proud of him nonetheless. And she was certain that her predecessor would have said the same. As of the time stamp, Alec had been trapped in this hell for nearly three months. The narration at the beginning of this tape explained that to prevent their subject from dying from the beatings and the malnutrition, he was removed from the custody of Ourumov and placed in an infirmary until he regained his strength.

The screen, meanwhile, had faded to black. The next time was for the following day. Alec was now lying on his back, his arms once more suspended over his head. M's blood ran cold, for she immediately recognized the Rack. They had a taste for medieval torture devices, did they? Pity that Ourumov was dead. She would have liked to use a few torture devices on him herself. Remove all of his weapons, then stick him into a small room with six or seven teenagers. After telling the aforementioned teenagers what he had done to Alec Trevelyan.

Teenagers were odd creatures. They could be cocky and a know-it-all. . .or they could be ferociously protective of anyone who suffered an injustice. Especially teenagers like Sabrina Trevelyan. M shuddered. No, she didn't want young Sabrina to see this. It was bad enough that her father endured this. . .bad enough that a naive young girl was a mute, horrified witness to this. . .there was no reason in the world for the child to see what was done to the man who helped to create her. Right around, in fact, the time she would have been born. And there was no question in M's mind. . . if Sabrina Trevelyan saw what Orlov did to her father, she would kill the Russian scientist. M didn't give a damn about Orlov, but she didn't want that for Sabrina. That was MI-6's purpose. . .to make sure the Sabrina Trevelyans of the world didn't carry that burden.

M turned her attention back to the screen. Alec wasn't alone. Orlov was with him once more. The insane scientist was cooing over him, as if Alec was a beloved child whose disobedience resulted in harm to himself. It made her ill to witness it. Especially when the audio picked up Alec's harsh breathing and Orlov's mock-tender words. He was saying, "Why do you fight so? Mmm? Why? They will not come for you, my foolish young friend. Not your beloved friend James. Not for the MI-6 jackals, who abandoned and betrayed you."

"I'll see you in hell," Alec promised, speaking English once more, "I'll see you in hell, and Ourumov with you." Orlov made a movement with his hand, and the young agent whimpered in pain. There was a silence, then Alec began whispering. Orlov frowned thoughtfully, and the audio was turned up louder. M also frowned, which quickly changed to a smile. The boy was reciting the monarchs of England, though she noticed he started with Alfred the Great.

And again, Orlov asked, "Why?" He sounded genuinely bewildered. Alec licked dry, cracked, bloodied lips, almost gasping out the last few monarchs. M had no idea how long the torture went on, before they finally started the memory experiments. . .but it had to be soon. The boy would have died if he had to put up with much more of this. Orlov repeated once more, "Why would you do this?"

"You. . .ever. . .watch. . .American movies? _Star Wars_. 1977. Obi-Wan. . . Kenobi. Jedi Master. Became far. . .more powerful. . .than Vader. Because. . .of his. . . death. Luke fought harder. . . because of Kenobi's. . .death. So. . .will. . .James. I'm Kenobi. . .only. . .younger. . . and better. . . looking," Alec rasped out. M wasn't sure about that. . .she was quite infatuated with Sir Alec Guinness when she was a young girl. However, he had a point.

Unfortunately, being right didn't spare him. Displeased with Alec's answer, Orlov's face twisted with rage and his hand moved again. Alec screamed in agony, then wept softly as Orlov's hand shifted back. The doctor rose to his face and hovered over the half-conscious agent, hissing, "You are a fool, Alek Vessenovic Denisov. A fool like your father before you. And weak like your mother. But that matters little. You have not yet served your purpose."

The question was, what was that purpose? GoldenEye, she now suspected, was a distraction. If that was the main point of the Janus Syndicate, Orlov and his partner would have made a move to find their creation long ago. However, MI-6 had a prior claim on Alec Trevelyan. . .and she would commit all of the resources available to protect him and his family. _You took him from us once_, she swore, _not again. **Never** again_.

* * *

James Bond saw, did, and experienced things on a regular basis that no human being should ever have to endure. He saw friends die, felt the bitterness of failure when he could not save someone under his protection, and killed more men than he could count. He was tortured and left to die in a North Korean prison. Abandoned and betrayed by someone within his own agency. Lost a brother, only to find him alive and a traitor to everything he believed in. 

Only to find. . .he never betrayed them. Didn't betray James. Didn't betray MI-6. James fought desperately to hold onto his anger and his hatred and his certainty that he was stronger than Alec. He was strong in North Korea; shouldn't Alec have shown the same strength in Russia? He wanted to believe that, but it wasn't so easy. Not after seeing this. He was tortured in North Korea, yes, and he would likely bear the scars from that for the rest of his life. But they were looking for information, and these people. . .these people tortured Alec for pleasure. Simply because they enjoyed causing pain. And that was the only reason.

They hurt his little brother, and he didn't know about it. He thought Alec was dead. Alec knew that, and warned the Russians that James would come after them, twice as hard as before. He was right. As if that wasn't bad enough, there was Alec's plea to him to forgive him. Forgive him for what?

_No, Alec_, he thought, _no_. The question was. . .did he mean he couldn't forgive Alec? Or that of the two, it was James who needed to be forgiven? He didn't know. Nor did he know at the time that Alec was still alive and that he needed him. Was that good enough?

Looking back at Arkangelsk, he wondered if there were things he could have done differently, ways that he could have taken Alec with him. Would have, could have, should have. The seeds were already planted, the seeds of doubt. Alec, his friend, remained. And Janus. . .Janus was someone, something, separate. Janus was an abomination who wore his friend's face and spoke with his voice, but it wasn't Alec. They weren't the same person. They were light and dark twins, in the same body.

A sound distracted him, and Bond turned in his seat to investigate. Only to find himself staring at Alec Trevelyan. His old friend was staring in horror at the images on the screen. And James. . . James found that he couldn't look away. He heard the twenty-seven year old Alec's screams of agony, and saw horror, pity, grief, and rage reflected in the eyes of the forty-four year old Alec. Evan White was at his side, a gentle hand on his shoulder. And it occurred to James that it should be him, comforting Alec, supporting him, but the agent's legs refused to move.

He couldn't look away from Alec's face. Not until an unearthly scream of pain tore his eyes away, and refocused his attention on the screen. M whispered, "Oh dear God. No." His blood ran cold. He thought the Rack was bad. He thought Alec suspended from the bloody ceiling fan was bad. But this. . .both of those paled in comparison. He should have seen this before. Should have realized that Alec's scars were too neat, too precise, for him to have received them at Arkangelsk, when the chemical factory blew up.

Alec didn't receive those scars from the explosion. He received them as part of the torture. Too neat. Too precise. Once more, mercifully, he sank into unconsciousness. . .but only after screaming his throat raw. '_You gave this face to me_,' Janus told him among the ruins of Soviet giants. But that wasn't true. That wasn't true, because Alec received those godawful scars that twisted and marred his flesh at the hands of the monsters who used him and James.

Red hot iron rods, heated God only knew how, then pressed against the face of the still-unconscious young man. Very neat, very precise. Down his cheek, lightly brushing the corner of an ear lobe, and down his neck. And then there was the expression on Orlov's face. _Damn him to hell_. James' hands, which were fastened around his knees, now began tightening. Even unconscious, Alec whimpered in pain, and James' hands tightened further. He had to keep tightening his hands on his own flesh, or he would put both fists through the tv screen.

He was a double-oh agent. He couldn't afford to lose control. Not even when faced by this. . .this. . .James shook his head mutely, finally tearing his eyes away from his friend's ruined face. Was that why Rowanne Trevelyan chose to have Alec's scars removed? Did she know how he came by those scars, of the torture he endured? Or was she simply trying to set him free? Free of the burden of Janus, in whatever way she could? James didn't have the answer, and looking into Alec's, present-day Alec's, face. . .he wasn't sure it mattered. Alec had no idea this was done to him.

Evan White held him in a tight grip, and James wondered if his uncle had someone there when he was captured and brainwashed into attacking M. He knew that the brainwashing was removed, but was someone there to help him? To put him back together? Was there a Rowanne Bramwell, who looked after him and took care of him? Did his uncle, also one of the finest agents in MI-6, ever have to endure something like this? Odd, he hadn't thought of that terrible time, when he believed Uncle James was lost to him. . .not in years.

He wanted to hold onto his anger. Wanted to hold onto his suspicion. Alec Trevelyan's betrayal tore out half his soul. And he couldn't afford what a second betrayal would do to him. But the young agent on the screen and the older version of that agent were making that bloody difficult for him. James tried to tell himself that data could be manipulated. That. . .that all of this was a terrible hoax. A hand touched his own, and James tore his eyes away from Alec, to look at William Pryce-Meecham. The old man held his gaze and shook his head very slowly.

James tried to swallow, failed miserably, and his former instructor said softly, "I know what you're thinking, lad. But you're wrong. None of this is a hoax. I've read the reports of the experiments and the torture. Sebastian saw the footage on the tapes that Orlov left behind in his labs. This all happened to Alec after he was captured. The child spoke the truth. Every word of what she told you was the truth. The question which remains, then, is how you will deal with this. You know now that Orlov set you up. . .set you both up. What will you do with that knowledge, 007? What will you make of it?"

The agent didn't answer immediately. He was caught between being an agent and being an older brother; between his fierce affection for Alec and his equally fierce hatred for Janus. But Alec wasn't Janus. . .they weren't the same person. It was a battle to accept that. Even with Alec's repaired face and his new mission in life, it was hard to accept. An image flashed through his mind. Alec on his knees, Ourumov's pistol pressed against his forehead. The gunshot that he believed ended his friend's life, and the gunshot that tore out his heart. Alec was gone. That bastard murdered Alec. James would have abandoned the bloody mission to save Alec, and then that bastard murdered him.

And all this time. . .all of it. . . James drew in a deep, shuddering breath, whispering, "I don't know. I can't think." He could say that to William. He knew. Of all people, he would. . .could. . .understand. William's hand tightened over his own, and James looked up at the old man. Much to his surprise, the younger agent saw tears in the eyes of the older. Of course. William loved Alec as a son. This had to be killing him.

"Good. That's good. Because we must proceed with caution, my boy. Custos and Orlov are very smart men. They're stupid, but they're also smart. I want to rip out their hearts, both of them, for what they did to my boy. But we can't afford to do anything foolish. The risk is far too great. What they could do to our agencies and to the agencies of friendly nations is far too devastating. It will be hard, but if we want to protect our interests and avenge what was done to Alec and the others. . .we must be patient," William said quietly.

_Others? What others_? His former instructor explained sadly, "This was only the beginning, James. At least for Alec. But in theyears leading up to his capture, there were others taken prisoner and tested. They died, James. . .all indications are that they all died. Alec was the first success. But even that was undermined. In spite of everything, there was a piece of Alec Trevelyan which remained dormant within Janus. Be patient, James. Be patient, and listen." That would be easier said than done. . .but James Bond was no longer certain that he had a choice in the matter. If, indeed, he ever did.

* * *

_This can't be happening. This isn't real. None of this is real._

He wanted to believe that. But all indications, all evidence, was to the contrary. If the steely strength in Evan White was real. . .so were the images on the screen. Alec's head was spinning, and it was only the Marine keeping him upright, rather than collapsing from sheer dizziness. Was his head spinning, or was the world spinning? Maybe that was it. The world had gone mad. He saw himself, and yet, not himself on that screen. Was he ever that young? It couldn't be. Not possible. But even as he denied this, the horrific images were burned into his mind, and knocked the gears of his mind loose.

This wasn't real. And yet, the picture didn't change. There was still the boy who wore Alec's face. He was young. God, he was so young! So, terribly young. Five years younger than Alec's wife was now. Five years older than she was when the met. Why had he never realized just how young twenty-seven really was? As if that wasn't surreal enough, seeing that boy with Alec's own face, there was the torture itself. Somewhere in the back of Alec Trevelyan's mind, he was observing the techniques with a detached fascination.

A detachment which faded when he saw the red-hot iron rods. No. No. He shook his head mutely. No. This. . .no. Alec was only vaguely aware of Evan's arms tightening. Oh gods, no. He gave a low moan of denial, only barely recognizing it as his own. And Alec heard a woman crying. Who was crying? Rowanne? No, Rowanne was still in the library. He left her there. Sabrina and Sassy took their new friend Sebastian to the pool area after he finished his swim, along with Matthew Wade. They arrived just as he was leaving.

Who was crying? He couldn't be certain. There was no wetness on his own cheeks, so he knew it wasn't him. Who was crying? It was a woman. Yes, it was a woman. M, the new M? No. No, somehow, he thought not. She would be all too aware of being considered weak. A figure approached them. Alec pulled back, unconsciously retreating to safety. Then the figure blocked his view to the boy, and Alec relaxed. He knew this man. Charles Robinson asked softly, "What can I do?" Charles. Yes. But Charles wasn't supposed to be here, was he?

"Help me get him into a chair. Easy, boss. . .'s all right. We got'cha. . .now let us do all the work," Evan said in a gentle voice. Alec leaned heavily against the young man. Young? Yes. Yes, he was the same age as Rowanne, or thereabouts. Young. Not as young as the boy on the screen, but young enough. The pair maneuvered Alec into a chair, and he did nothing to help or hinder them. There was no strength in his legs, it seemed. He couldn't look away from the pictures on the screen. The burning poker was pressed to the boy's face, in a cruel mockery of a tender caress. In just the same way Rowanne sometimes caressed his face.

But it wasn't Rowanne touching him. Even when she was most angry, her grief over her sister's death at its most raw, she was never cruel like that. She didn't delight in causing pain. She wasn't like that. Maybe she could be. But it wouldn't last long. He knew his Rowanne. He knew all of her. He knew her smile and her frown, the gentleness of her touch and the sharpness of her mind. She wasn't like that. She was good. Like that old Western he and James watched once, when they were half-asleep. _Angel and the Badman_. She was his angel.

Alec closed his eyes to the horror of what was done to the boy, calling forth the memories of Rowanne once more. The harsh breathing of the boy melded with his own gasps as Rowanne explored his body for the first time. The whimpers he made, even while unconscious, became Alec's moans as Rowanne's body fused with his own. The crooning words of that monster torturing the boy was overwhelmed by the sound of Rowanne's soft singing as Alec lay his head in her lap. He closed his eyes even tighter, and could almost feel her fingers weaving through his hair as he drifted off to sleep.

Through the dull roaring in his ears, Alec could hear Evan telling Charles, "Stay with him. I'll get a wastebasket." _Why_? As if hearing his question, the big man explained, "I think the boss may be going into shock. I want a wastebasket handy, in case he starts throwing up. After I get that, I need to leave the room. . .I want to get a blanket for him. Boss, you just rest. Agent Robinson will take care of you." Alec barely managed a nod. He didn't care. He didn't care what happened. He wanted Rowanne.

No. No, he didn't. He didn't want Rowanne in here. Never mind that she had already seen this, that was hardly the point. He didn't want her to see this. He didn't want her to see _him_ like this. Alec barely registered the hands on his shoulders. But he did hear Charles murmur, "It's all right, Alec. I know, I asked you to keep me out of this, but I couldn't do that. I had to see what they did to you. I wish I had known. If we had known, Alec, we would have come for you. We never would have left you there."

Alec shivered and hands began rubbing warmth back into his trembling body. He was cold. Why was he so cold? More and more, he felt himself distanced from his own body. Nothing seemed real to him any more. Not the hands trying to rub warmth back into his arms. Not the voice he was hearing. Nothing. He couldn't understand why he was so cold. Couldn't understand why he felt so sick. And above all, why wouldn't anyone help that poor boy? They were torturing him, why didn't anyone see that?

And what sort of people would watch such a movie? It was monstrous. Like watching old movies about what the Nazis did to their prisoners. Alec croaked out, "Help him. Help the boy. They'll kill him." They'll kill him, they'll. . . Alec shuddered. Him. They did that to him. _He was twenty-seven years old, captured at Arkangelsk, while he and James were there to take out the chemical weapons facility. It was six months after he found out about his parents and how they died. Six months. . . and just a short time after he came home from Scotland_.

Memories began tearing free then. Yes, tearing free, because it felt like Alec's soul was being torn asunder by a Roman scourge. He remembered himself, eighteen years earlier, leaning back in Cassandra's arms as she talked about what she wanted to do when she got home to Canada. He remembered feeling at peace, Cassandra's innocent questions about taking revenge on people who had no part in atrocities. The people whom Alec knew now. . .they were not responsible for that betrayal. James, like Alec, wasn't even born yet. Did he really want to destroy James, because of something that happened before either of them were born? What kind of monster would that make him?

No. No, the only remaining child of Vesseney and Anna Denisov would not take that path. He was still angry with England, he was still angry with MI-6. But by now, Alec realized that someone put that file in his door to push him into a rash action. He would not oblige them. He would not allow them to use the deaths of his parents, the death of his older brother, like that. Cassandra must have sensed the change in him, because she stopped talking and smiled at him. Alec smiled back and in a quick motion, rolled her onto her back. Her smile broadened, and then they. . .

His decision. He made his decision. . .and then they took it from him. _Those bastards. Those bloody bastards_! In the present, Charles' arms tightened, but Alec barely noticed. Memories were flowing freely now. The fan, that bloody fan. . .they tied him to that, and then turned it on. He was hanging from it, with ribs that were already broken. He remembered everything now. He remembered the agony, and his own whimpers of pain. Orlov. He remembered Orlov. He remembered Ourumov. He remembered waking up in a cell, his forehead bloody thanks to the bullet that grazed him.

_Bloody hell, 007_, he had mumbled, _you're slipping_. And the sudden agony that erupted in his gut when Ourumov kicked him. The first beating. The others that came afterward. The thirst, which was worse than the hunger. The pain. Not being able to breathe after one of the more vicious beatings. The memory of waking up with a badly-burned face, the searing agony that pulsed through his head as a result of those burns. And. . .the Catherine wheel, which almost broke him.

The Catherine wheel. An ancient device of torture, designed to draw out the suffering of its victim for days. In the back of his mind, where his darkest side remained, Alec could suddenly see Janus staring back at him. With a mocking smile, Janus gestured to something off to his right. Silently dreading whatever would come, Alec shifted his eyes from Janus to. . . _Oh no. Oh gods, no. Not that_. Janus whispered, "The key to breaking her was there all the time, Alec. In the recesses of your memory." Breaking her. Destroying her for being innocent when his own was lost.

_No_, he said fiercely, _no_. _You can't have her. You can't have her! You will never have her_! Janus merely laughed, that horrible hissing sound that sounded so much like a snake. Alec's already devastated psyche had enough. Confronted with the image of his wife, his Rowanne, his angel, on the Catherine wheel. . .Alec Trevelyan had enough. With a soft moan, he slumped forward. He was unconscious before he could hit the ground.

Thus, he never heard the returning Evan White cry out, "Turn that off, now! You, old man. . .go get Juturna! Tell her that Janus needs her, now! Stay away from him, Bond! We'll take care of him." Alec knew none of this. His mind shut down, leaving him unconscious and oblivious to everything. And perhaps that was necessary to save his sanity. Perhaps, it was necessary all along, for Janus to be born. Perhaps.


	11. Living in the Aftermath

Well! Not quite so long a wait this time! In addition to the reviews, which I'll get to in a minute, I'd like to thank Iolana and alleymap for listening while I sorted out a tangle in the next chapter. It was supposed to go in this chapter, but James decided to get stroppy. So what else is new? Oh, and Damien Falco was seen in the most recent JB movie, _Die Another Day_.

Reviews!

Rhivanna: Wow! That was quite the review you left! I don't believe further comment is necessary. . . you got your point across very well. Poor Alec, indeed, and I'm afraid I'm not finished with him yet. (On the other hand, it makes the smackdown all the more satisfying when it does come, yes?) Thank you for putting your two cents worth in, about Alec. I think what you said plays into it for me, along with a few other reasons. Hope you enjoy this next chapter. (glares at characters) They weren't especially cooperative.

Gin: Ah, yes. . .I can't argue. Sean Bean does have that effect, I've noticed. I think out of all the movies I've seen, I only hated Sean Miller in _Patriot Games_. . .and I didn't even hate him in the beginning. Ahhh, my reference to _Star Wars_ went over well. I couldn't resist. It occurred to me that the same was true of Gandalf. . .who died and was resurrected, even stronger than before. The book stash? Oh, drat, I meant to get to that in this chapter. . .next chapter. Promise. And I'm glad you liked the comment about 'the dark djinn,' because that's the name of the next chapter!

Elenhin: Yes, I did research medieval torture techniques, and chose the three which were painful, but which wouldn't make me physically ill to write about. The others required graphic descriptions, and I really didn't think that was necessary. Yes, it seems like the whole scene with the chaise lounge has gone over well. I'm glad to hear that. And another vote for Sean Bean's portrayal of Alec as the reason we just can't stay away from him. I can't argue, because for me, that played into it as well. (laughing) Oh yes, the _Star Wars_ reference. I could easily see the boys half-asleep, watching the movies.

On with the story!

Chapter Ten

Living in the Aftermath

On a scale of one to ten, the present snarl in the Janus personnel files was about a five. At least, it would be under ordinary circumstances. But in the. . .well, however much time elapsed since she came here from the library, Rowanne still couldn't get it untangled. In part. . .well, she wasn't focusing all of her attention on it. She was worried. Deeply worried. Not just about Alec, but about the girls as well. And, if she was truly honest, she was worried for herself, as well. The fainting spell the previous night worried her a lot more than she wanted to admit to Alec. Especially now.

Out of the newcomers, she could count on one hand the known allies. They were: Charles Robinson, William Pryce-Meecham, and Sebastian Miller. Barbara Mawdsley, or M, was a question mark. Rowanne knew too much about the game to fully trust the older woman. She would protect Alec as long as she thought him useful. Rowanne didn't judge her for it, nor did she envy the other woman for her job or her power. With power came responsibility, and a whole bunch of headaches. However, that also meant that Rowanne couldn't trust her. . .couldn't afford to trust her.

Natalya Simonova was another question mark. Would she believe what she saw? It was hard to say, and what was worse, she really couldn't blame the Russian woman. Not after what she survived. Rowanne sighed, rubbing her forehead. She remembered how she reacted after seeing the tapes. And the doctors told her how lucky she was. . .both she and Sassy. But was it luck or something else? Four months after GoldenEye, she learned the truth about what was done to Alec following his capture. Once she and Sassy were stabilized, she made the first of many fateful decisions. Alec was, of course, still in a coma, and she contacted a reputable plastic surgeon to fix the scars. Diana argued against it. But then, Diana didn't see what she saw. Rowanne could never bring herself to show her sister the tapes.

It felt too much like a betrayal of Alec. She knew, all too well, that if she showed the tapes to her sister, Diana would back off. But the best she could do was to tell her older sister as much of the truth as she could bear. His captors violated Alec many times over. How could she violate him again? And so, she only told her sister that Alec was captured and tortured, setting him onto the path that eventually led him to Rowanne. Or was it the path that led Rowanne to him? Who could be sure, and really, did it matter?

Not in the least. She knew the truth about the man she married. Janus was still a part of Alec. In some ways, she believed that Janus was an alternate personality, borne of the torture and the memory machine. And in other ways. . . She didn't know. Worse yet, she knew that she would probably never learn the answer. The only one who knew the whole truth about Janus and his connection with Alec. . .was Janus himself. And Rowanne didn't think it particularly likely that he would tell her. She saw his hatred of her in his eyes when he pulled a gun on her, before Alec regained control.

Yes, Janus hated her. Whether it was because she mattered to Alec. . .or because he believed she would betray Alec, it was anyone's guess. If she was right, and Janus was an alternate personality created by the trauma of the torture and mental rape of the experiments. . .then it was likely that Janus viewed himself as Alec's protector. Rowanne was no psychologist, but she knew just enough about alternates to get herself into trouble if she tried to talk about it. Classic case of a little knowledge being more dangerous than no knowledge at all.

Knowledge. That brought her to James Bond, the final newcomer. She had to be very careful with him. She knew all too well that he was probably the most dangerous out of all of them. He had the same knowledge, the same skills, and the same attributes of Alec. Even now, her husband was a dangerous man. Even now, nine years out of the field, he was still a force to be reckoned with, though he regarded himself as soft. But James Bond was twice as dangerous as Alec, because he remained in the field, and worse, he had years of hatred fueling him. She had to be careful around him. He got the better of her once. He would not get another opportunity. Never mind that Alec didn't blame her. She blamed herself.

There was something else. She had to guard her tongue when she was around the agent. Lashing out at him would not help Alec, the girls, or herself. Rowanne had to remind herself that Bond was only now seeing the truth, a truth she knew for years. But for some reason, that really didn't help. She could still see, in her mind's eye, Alec freefalling from the antenna after Bond dropped him. Worse, she still had nightmares about it. She hated James Bond for that, just as much as Bond hated Janus. It wasn't right, and it wasn't fair. . .but that was the way it was.

And like Bond, it would take time to accept the change. It was just that. . .the girls and Alec were her world. Even more so than her parents, Ethan, and her remaining sisters, because the girls and Alec never judged her other family. Yes, she often felt that Alec was only barely restraining himself when the conversation turned to her mother. Even so, he respected her wish and kept his contempt for her mother to himself. That was more than she could say for Ethan, Corliss, and Lydia. But. . . they were her siblings, and she didn't want to lose them, not after losing Diana.

She checked on the girls before going to her office. Sassy and Sabrina were in the pool, supervised by Sebastian Miller and Matthew Tate. It wasn't that Rowanne distrusted her step-daughter. Sabrina was a responsible girl. But it wasn't fair to her, asking her to watch her little sister all the time. And since the pair volunteered. . .that was even better. Sabrina, she remembered, didn't argue. Rowanne had a sneaking suspicion that her step-daughter was developing a crush on the very cute Sebastian Miller. And of course she noticed that Sebastian was cute. She was married, she wasn't dead, and she knew that Alec looked as well. He just couldn't touch. Not if he knew what was good for him, at least.

Rowanne smiled to herself, remembering his expression when she told him that. '_You can look_,' she told him as they walked along the beach at their previous home, hand in hand, _'but don't touch. I'll have to hurt you if you touch_.' He had smiled at her, that devastating smile that could melt stone. Alec said nothing, she remembered, but that smile said it all. Rowanne's own smile broadened as she remembered. But, she still had a snarl to work out.

She might have actually had a chance to work out this particular snarl, if the door to her office hadn't practically imploded off its hinges. Rowanne's head snapped up, her blood running cold as an obviously-upset William Pryce-Meecham burst inside. He had been running. He was out of breath, and his usually immaculate white hair was disheveled. And he had been watching the tapes. Those damn tapes. The retired agent said hoarsely, "Come immediately, Rowanne. . .Alec needs you!" That was all that was said. . .that was all that needed to be said. Rowanne didn't even bother saving what she was working on. . . just bolted out of her chair and ran for the video room.

* * *

This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening.

James Bond unconsciously echoed Alec Trevelyan's earlier thoughts. But where Alec was shocked at the horrifying images he saw of his own torture, Bond was shocked by Alec's reaction. He was currently unconscious, half in the arms of Charles Robinson and half in the arms of the behemoth of a Marine. The ex-Marine said gruffly, "I have him. I need you to go ahead and make sure people stay out of my way."

Charles nodded, his face a mask of concern, then eased Alec more fully into the other man's arms. He wasted no time in speaking, just rose to his feet, ready to lend a hand if it was needed. But it wasn't. Evan White cradled his boss against his chest, as if Alec was the same age as either of his daughters, then rose to his feet. Even more unnerving, the former 006 stirred not at all. His head lolled back, face turned away from James, so that he could only see the back of Alec's head. And then White was striding from the room behind Charles.

William already ran to retrieve Alec's wife. That frightened James more than he was willing to admit. Not just seeing Alec collapse like that, but William didn't even make the attempt to hide his fear. And Alec. A voice that sounded almost like Alec's, but was far more mocking, asked in the back of his head, _And how did you expect him to react? He didn't remember being tortured. Didn't remember any of this. Not until you returned, and everything was brought back to him. As if he hasn't been through enough?_

_Stop. You have no reason to do this, you have no reason to feel guilty_. And yet, James continued to follow Charles and White through the house, meeting the bane of his existence at the door to the master bedroom, with his former instructor right behind her. Her lips tightened as she looked at Alec, but her voice was gentle as she said, "Put him on the bed, Evan, I'll take care of him. Where are the others?" James looked around, wondering that for the first time. They were coming behind him, much slower. Natalya. . .Natalya's face was wet with tears, and M had her arm around the Russian woman.

"Will he be all right?" Natalya asked hoarsely. She wiped at her tears as she and M reached the rest of the small group. Her eyes were focused only on Alec as White and Charles gently arranged him on the bed. He wasn't supposed to be so bloody still! Natalya shook her head, whispering, "How did he survive? How could he survive? They hurt him so badly! They hurt him! They didn't want information, they only hurt him because they enjoyed it, because it gave them pleasure!" She added a few choice Russian curses and James winced, grateful he wasn't on the receiving end of her fury.

Rowanne Trevelyan responded with a ghost of a smile, "He'll be fine, eventually. He needs time to deal with what he saw. He. . .he didn't remember any of what happened, Miss Simonova. Maybe I shouldn't have. . .but. . ." She shook her head, and went into the bedroom as Charles and White stepped away. White put his hand on her shoulder and she smiled weakly. James didn't like the way his heart contracted when he looked at Alec. . .and at his young wife. They were both so pale. The American woman murmured, "Evan, do me a favor and check on the girls. They should be in the pool with Sebastian Miller and Matthew. But make sure."

"You got it, Juturna. Robinson, you come with me. Don't worry, Lady Boss. He's strong. After everything else he's been through, he'll make it through this as well. And then we'll get the sons of bitches who did this to him in the first place. I promise," White answered. He squeezed her shoulder again, then shouldered his way out of the master bedroom, Charles right behind. The girl sat down on the bed beside Alec, her hand stroking his right cheek. The remaining representatives of MI-6 and Natalya waited outside the door somewhat awkwardly.

"M, William, I could use your help," the girl said quietly. The pair stepped into the room and Rowanne Trevelyan turned to face them. Her face was very pale and very serious as she said, "William, I need you to go back to my office and save the file I was working on. You can just x out of the document, and when it asks if you want to save the changes, mark it as 'yes.' I don't know when I'll get back to that, and I don't like to leave those files up where anyone can see them." James wondered briefly if William even knew what she meant when she said 'x' out. Bloody computers!

"Consider it done, my dear girl. Just take care of Alec," William replied and swept out of the room once more. James watched him go, wondering if he was the only one who thought this situation was becoming steadily more. . .surreal. More than likely. It seemed like he was the only one who couldn't wrap his mind around what he saw earlier. And if he was truly honest with himself, he would admit he didn't actually want to, either. It would be so much easier to ignore what he saw. . . wouldn't it?

The woman who set all of this into motion called, "M, I need you to do something just as important. Sabrina might take it into her head to watch the tapes. She knows where the room is, but I won't make things easier for her. If you could go back and remove the tape from the recorder, and put it in the storage space under the VCR, I would greatly appreciate it. I'm afraid that what happened just now will get Sabrina's curiosity up, and I don't think any of us are ready to deal with the fallout from that."

"I will do just that, Rowanne. Please, concern yourself only with your husband. I can find my way back. Bond. . .I am trusting you to behave as a professional. Natalya, will you be all right?" M asked. James didn't hear Natalya's response, as he was gazing steadily at the pair on the bed. Alec remained unconscious. Again, James tried to remind himself of the fourteen hellish months he spent in North Korea, of the torture he endured. He tried to summon his anger, his knowledge of his own superiority. But it wasn't there. It was shattered by his friend's screams as he was tortured.

"May we help?" Natalya asked in a small voice, and that finally triggered James' anger. Natalya sounded like she felt guilty, and there was no need for that. She had no need to feel guilty. She did nothing wrong. He leveled his most devastating glare at the back of the woman now tending to his former partner. This was all _her_ fault. It was her fault that Natalya felt guilty. She should have insisted that Natalya not watch the tapes. James was rattled to discover that his glare had absolutely no effect on her. He was told on more than one occasion that his eyes could be a pair of laser beams.

"Yes, you can, Miss Simonova," and Rowanne Trevelyan turned to face them. Actually,her attention was on Natalya. . .she didn't even look at James. Not that he allowed that to bother him. She shook her dark hair out of her eyes and continued, "In our bathroom and under the sink, there's a basin. If you could take it out and fill it with water, I'd greatly appreciate it. You might need two trips. . .I also need a washcloth. Alec is a little feverish, and I want to make sure it doesn't get any worse. His body just received one helluva shock, and his immune system isn't what it used to be."

"I'll get the water, you get the washcloth," James told Natalya. Their reluctant hostess showed no signs of hearing, or even caring. She returned her attention to her unconscious husband. James started to follow Natalya into the bathroom, then stopped. For the first time since Alec's collapse, 007 actually saw his former friend's face. Even unconscious, Alec knew no peace. His face was tense and anguished. James looked away, unable to bear any more. The seeds of doubt were planted earlier. . .the night before when M told him that Rowanne Trevelyan told them the truth about the torture. They grew as he watched the torture for himself.

Despite his ruthless attempts to batter them down, they continued to sprout. Alec hadn't remembered the torture. And he was so shocked by what was done to him, all those years ago, that his mind shut down and took his body with it. That was the only explanation. His mind simply shut down, because it was overwhelmed. As he entered the bathroom, he saw that Natalya already removed the basin in question from under the sink. He joined her and began filling the basin with tap water. Natalya began to hunt for a washcloth. James finally said softly, "It was not your fault."

"I know." That was all she said, that was all she seemed capable of saying. James didn't know what to do, how to comfort her. After a moment, Natalya whispered, "I just keep thinking about his wife. She was young when she saw that. . .so young. And pregnant! She was six months pregnant when she saw that, James! Your M told me that on the way here. . .she told me that seeing that, it almost sent her into premature labor, and I can see why! I can see. . .oh, God. No wonder she hates us. No wonder she is so very protective of him!"

James said nothing, for what could he say? She was right. That was part of the reason he was so angry with Rowanne Trevelyan. After seeing the torture, he could understand her rage toward them, and her ferociously protective attitude toward Alec. He hated her for taking that anger away from him, that surety that GoldenEye really was Alec's fault. And it still might be. But if she was telling the truth about the torture. . .what else was the truth? James shuddered, uncertain if he wished to know the answer to that. How many other things was he wrong about?

* * *

Natalya Fyordovna Simonova was entirely too aware of James Bond's anger. She was just as aware that most of it was misdirected against their hostess. When she first arrived here, and learned of Rowanne Trevelyan's existence, Natalya hated the other woman. She was responsible for Alec Trevelyan's continued existence, and the rebirth of Natalya's nightmares about Janus and GoldenEye and Severnaya. But then everything was thrown into chaos, first with Alec's apology, and then with the tapes.

_The tapes. Those damnable, evil tapes_. Natalya shuddered, remembering what she had seen only moments earlier. No. The tapes were neither evil nor good. They were simply objects. Just as. . .just as the GoldenEye was just an object. It was the men who made those tapes. . .they were the evil ones. And the ones, she was starting to believe, the ones ultimately responsible for the massacre at Severnaya. She thought she went through hell after Severnaya, but. . .how could he survive such brutality? How could. . . She didn't understand. How did he hold onto himself, for all those weeks? Natalya shook her head, taking the washcloth to Rowanne Trevelyan.

James followed a moment later, and the young woman on the bed said quietly, never looking up from her husband, "Just set the basin on the table." She didn't say anything else. Just kept stroking the blond hair, caressing his cheek. His cheek. His now-unscarred cheek. Natalya shuddered, remembering the sight of the hot iron rods burning his face. James did as he was told, and Rowanne continued, "You may go. I require no further aid." _From you_, were her unspoken words.

James stared coldly at the back of her head, and Natalya said quietly, "Go, James. I will stay and help Mrs. Trevelyan." James transferred his gaze from his former friend's wife to Natalya, who repeated, "We have unfinished business, she and I." Her former lover stared at her a moment more, then nodded curtly. He looked back at Alec Trevelyan, and Natalya saw his expression change. Unfortunately, she couldn't tell what that meant, what his expression meant. Then he left the room, and Natalya was alone with the Trevelyans.

"If you wouldn't mind hanging onto that washcloth a moment longer, I need to unbutton my husband's shirt. I need to start cooling him down, and not just his face. Otherwise, he will get sick," her female companion said. Natalya bobbed her head, and folded over the washcloth. However, instead of merely standing there, she dunked the cloth in the waiting basin while Rowanne made quick work of the buttons. Natalya caught her breath at the sight of the new scars, then cursed herself for her reaction. Rowanne said softly, "Some of these scars are the result of his surgeries, after we left Cuba. I know you've noticed that I'm very protective of him. When he fell from the antenna, and hit the dish, the impact did a number on his spleen."

This explained her comment about his immune system. She looked around, her eyes meetingNatalya's, and said, "He should have died. He should have died of internal bleeding, long before the doctors reached him. In the helicopter, while we were being pulled up into the chopper. To this day, I still don't know why he's still alive. This scar," indicating a pale line on his abdomen, "was to remove the spleen and clean up the bleeding inside. These other scars are from the torture. He wouldn't tell me about them when I asked. Even after I kissed them. After I saw the tapes, I realized how he came by them."

"I'm sorry," Natalya said softly, "I didn't know. None of us knew." The other woman nodded and Natalya handed her the washcloth. Trevelyan's wife began sponging the damp cloth over his face. The water was fairly cool. Not icy. She tested it before allowing it to be brought in here. After a moment, Natalya continued, "M. . .she told me that you were six months pregnant when you saw those tapes. That you almost went into premature labor as a result. Is that when you decided to bring in the plastic surgeons?"

"Pretty much," Rowanne admitted, "Once Sassy and I were stabilized, I asked them to contact the plastic surgeons employed by my family. Soonest they could get to our compound was in about three weeks, but we had time.This was only four months after the accident, and my first priority was to save Alec's life. When he started asking questions about why I saved him, I let him think it was because I knew what happened to him. By that time, I did know. But at the time. . .I wish you could have seen him through my eyes. I loved him, Miss Simonova. I loved him then, and I love him even more now." Natalya swallowed hard. Yes. Yes, she could see that.

"You told him that you saved him because you knew what happened. But you saved him because you loved him. Did you even know you were pregnant at the time?" Natalya asked. Rowanne shook her head as she handed Natalya the washcloth. The Russian woman obligingly dunked the cloth into the water once more, wringing it out and returning it to her companion. Rowanne accepted it with a faint smile. Natalya continued, "What made you decide to make Janus into an anti-terrorist organization? Or was that Trevelyan's idea?" The woman froze, then began to sponge the cloth across her husband's face once more.

"It was my choice, initially. Alec. . .Alec was still largely amnesiac. He was awake, but he remembered almost nothing for almost two years after he woke up. The first year, he spent regaining his strength. The second year. . .in some ways, he was just a child, Miss Simonova, learning his world all over again. That year, it showed me what Alec would have been like, under different circumstances. He was reborn. And yes, as his memories returned, his personality changed. But the gentle, sweet man he was when he first woke up remained," Rowanne Trevelyan answered.

The object of their conversation moaned a little as his wife swabbed the washcloth over his chest, and she gently soothed him with her touch and voice. Natalya waited patiently, because Rowanne still hadn't told her why. After a moment, the other woman continued softly, "As for the why? Well. . .my older sister died in a terrorist attack. For years after GoldenEye was destroyed, Janus operatives were standing down. Janus, their leader, was lost to them, for all intents and purposes. And they were loyal to him."

Natalya swallowed hard, murmuring, "I'm so sorry." She was set on her path by GoldenEye. . .and so was this woman. For the first time, she realized how similarshe was to Rowanne Trevelyan. Andsomething occurred to her. Natalya continued slowly, watching Alec Trevelyan all the while, "You said that your sister died in a terrorist attack, and that was why you recreated Janus into an anti-terrorist organization. When did she die? And why did the Janus operatives agree to this change in their mission?"

"In answer to your second question, they agreed because. . .well, I was their de facto leader. I was Juturna, consort to Janus. I saved his life. Given that, they transferred their loyalty to me, at least until Janus recovered. They. . .they were glad to have a purpose again, I think. Even if it was totally opposite of their original mission. For some of them, I don't think it even mattered. . .some of them just wanted to hurt someone. The who didn't matter," the brunette answered. Natalya nodded slowly, but before she could press the issue of Rowanne's sister, the other woman added, "And my sister was killed in 2001."

Three years earlier, then. Three years, they spent transforming Janus into an anti-terrorist organization. Again, Natalya murmured, "I'm sorry." She didn't know what else to say. Instead, she looked around the bedroom. Oddly enough, it reflected the personalities of both inhabitants. She said, uncertain if she was trying to make conversation or if she was genuinely curious, "You have a very interesting home. Very interesting furnishings." There was a soft laugh as Rowanne passed the washcloth to her. Without even thinking about it, Natalya dipped it in the water once more and expelled the excess water before returning it to the other woman.

"Thank you. When I was a girl, I dreamed about living in a house like this. So, when we started to outgrow the old compound, where I took Alec originally, I drew a rough sketch of how I wanted this house to look. . .and asked him what he thought of it. He liked it. . .and. . .well, you see the results. I bought most of the furnishings at flea markets and bazaars. Open air markets. Once I got over my fear of a terrorist attack happening in such a place. I swore to myself that I wouldn't allow my sister's murderers to have that victory over me. But it wasn't so easy. . .not after certain events," the American replied. Natalya chose not to ask what those 'certain events' were.

"Flea markets? But. . .I understood that Trevelyan had money from his legitimate businesses. . .and that you came from money as well," she protested instead. What she was protesting, she wasn't entirely sure. Rowanne turned and smiled unexpectedly, a rueful expression that Natalya would come to recognize over the next few weeks. She always wore that particular expression when she did something unexpected.

"You understood correctly. . .but I didn't have access to that money. And I exhausted a lot of money from my inheritance when I had the surgeons come to Puerto Rico to save Alec's life, then repair his face. I was working on a limited budget. Plus, I have a young daughter. . .and I wasn't about to spend an obscene amount of money on furnishings. I wanted Sassy to have a chance to be a little girl. She could have never had that, not if she was tiptoeing around priceless items," came the surprising answered. Natalya never thought of it in those terms, but it made sense.

"How exactly did you get Trevelyan into American airspace? You were flying from Cuba, after all, so how. . .?" was Natalya's next question. Rowanne stilled, though very briefly. She passed the washcloth back to Natalya, caressing her husband's hair while the Russian woman soaked the item once more. Natalya wrung it out, and then passed it back to Rowanne. The other woman took it, gently sponging her husband's face once more. The tenderness in the gesture made Natalya's throat tighten.

"That is actually a rather long story. I'll sum it up, though. My older sister was seeing a guy for a while during college. When I stayed with Alec in Russia, she asked her former boyfriend to keep an eye on me, since he was there at the time. He agreed, and looked after me up until he was sent to his new posting. Puerto Rico. When we flew into American airspace, Damien. . .that's his name, Damien Falco. . .he recognized my voice and got me permission to land. Once we were on American soil, he met us and explained about Diana's request. See, what neither Diana nor anyone else knew was that Damien was in the CIA," Rowanne explained.

That seemed too neat, and Natalya said so. Rowanne gave a strange little laugh, replying, "I know. But at the time, I was too relieved to care. Damien stuck around for about five months, supposedly to take care of me after my sister left. Didn't find out just how wrong I was until Diana had been home a month. I was seven months pregnant and still wobbly from viewing the tapes. Dylan stuck by me, saying '_Janus would want me to look after you_.' Well, we came into the room where Alec was hooked up to machines galore, and found Damien standing over him with a pillow in his hands. Dylan went ballistic. Damien knew whom Alec was, and had orders that if Janussurvived. . .he was to take him out. Or so he said at the time, but by then, I was wary of anything he said."

"And because of his promise to your sister, he had to wait until you were out of harm's way. I would imagine, too, that in those early days and weeks, you never left Alec's side," Natalya guessed. Her companion nodded and Natalya continued softly, "I think we have both been through great strains because of the men in our lives." There was a suppressed snort that could have been laughter or a sob from the other woman, but as Rowanne turned to face her, there was only pain in her eyes. No moisture.

"And yet, we wouldn't trade them for anything," she replied. Natalya wasn'tsure about that. . .well, yes, she was. As much as she hated to admit it, Rowanne was entirely correct. The American woman continued after a moment, "Damien told me, once I talked Dylan out of beating him to a pulp. . .he told me the truth. Or, most of it. Damien knew only what my mother told him, when we landed. My mother told him a number of half-truths, and Damien took matters into his own hands. In those early months, he couldn't get Alec alone. Someone was always with him, monitoring his condition, or. . .or just being with him. When I heard what Damien had to say, I asked Dylan to show him the tapes. Maybe a mistake, but I was so angry. . ."

"And that choicechanged everything," Natalya guessed, nodding in acknowledgment. When her companion nodded, the Russian woman continued, "At that point. . .he switched sides, so to speak?" Rowanne didn't answer immediately. She was busy staring at scars on her husband's body. Her finger kept outlining the scar from the surgery to save his life nine years earlier. Natalya tried to imagine how that girl must have felt. Was it like it was for her, when Severnaya was attacked, then destroyed?

"Switched sides? I suppose you could say that. He was my contact for the next few years, until Jack Wade retired from the CIA. While he didn't know me or my sisters, Jack did know my father. They went to college together, you see. Damien knew this, and that was why he suggested that. . .well, that Jack be hired as our head of security. Apparently, my mother convinced Damien that I was suffering from Stockholm Syndrome. So, when he realized the truth, he swore to me that he would never harm us again. But you know, maybe it shouldn't have been a surprise for anyone of us. My mother never forgave Alec, because I fell in love with him. As far as she was concerned, he stole her daughter from her," Rowanne explained.

"As if you were a possession? What kind of mother views her child as property?" Natalya asked incredulously. She knew very little of Rowanne's early life, but there was something about the way Rowanne said that. 'Stole' her daughter. Natalya knew that the other young woman went with Alec Trevelyan willingly, so he most assuredly didn't kidnap her. Though certainly, Janus was capable of such things. And Rowanne didn't know the whole truth about him, but she still went with him willingly. Natalya asked slowly, "For that matter, what manner of woman is your mother?"

It occurred to her, belatedly, to ask about Rowanne's picture of the house as well, but Natalya decided it wasn't that important. She was far more interested in what happened in the past. Before this house was built, and while Alec Trevelyan was putting the pieces of himself back together. It was just as well. Rowanne was still thinking about her mother.

"She does what she believes is best for her children. There's an American soap that my older sister used to watch. _One Life to Live_. I can't bring myself to watch it, because one of the characters on that show is so much like my mother, it's painful. Dorian Lord. She. . .she does what she believes is best for her children, no matter what they happen to think. Even if the children are all adults and quite capable of making their own decisions," Rowanne murmured. She looked over her shoulder, adding with a wry smile, "Alec hates her."

"Because he loves you," Natalya said quietly. Rowanne merely looked at her, and Natalya added, "Anyone can see it. He loves you. He needs you. He would kill for you. . .he would die for you. And he knows that your mother hurt you. That's reason enough for him to hate her." She didn't know how she knew that. She just knew that she did. She knew one other thing, and told her companion so, explaining, "I am quite jealous. I may never have someone to love me like that."

A half-smile appeared as Rowanne answered, "Maybe I should introduce you to my twin brother Ethan." Natalya, much to her own surprise, didn't argue. Rowanne continued, "In any event, I don't want Alec to die for me, and I'd rather he didn't kill for me, either. Janus remains, Miss Simonova, just below the surface. And there are times when I'm afraid that if Alec killed again, Janus. . .Alec would find it difficult to suppress Janus. Even more difficult, I should say. And yet, at the same time, Alec killed long before Janus even came into being. It's such an odd balancing act. But he's my husband, Miss Simonova. I can't help trying to protect him."

"Call me 'Natalya,' please," the Russian woman told her American counterpart, "and I would like it very much if I could call you 'Rowanne' in turn." The other woman nodded with a half smile, and Natalya continued, "And of course you feel like you must protect him. He was wounded, in more ways than one, when he came to you. But, he feels that same need to protect you. Rowanne. . .you are his family. You, and those amazing young girls. I know. . .I know that he is the child of Lienz Cossacks, and I know he lost his previous family, his parents. Your double-oh two told me that."

Much to Natalya's surprise, Rowanne didn't protest that William Pryce-Meecham wasn't hers. In a manner of speaking, by virtue of his relationship with Alec, he was hers. From what the older agent told her, he was Alec's surrogate father, which made him Rowanne's father-in-law, in that strange family that was MI-6. And there was no doubt in Natalya's mind. Alec was still a member of that family, whether he realized (or accepted) it yet. Rowanne said softly, "I do realize that. But what Alec doesn't understand is that he has always protected me. If only from Janus."

Natalya let that go, murmuring instead, "He is still unconscious. Why is he still unconscious? Why does he not stir, or even moan?" Rowanne's eyes darkened a little, though Natalya realized with a twinge of guilt that it was sadness she saw in the other woman's eyes. Sadness. . .sorrow. Not anger. Natalya knew that she would have preferred anger to sorrow and sadness. Anger would have been far easier for her to bear. She looked back at Alec. In spite of herself, the last remaining survivor of Severnaya reached out and gently touched the face of the first living survivor of Orlov's insanity.

"I think he's retreated to a place, deep within himself. Where no one can hurt him. Where no one can reach him. The same place he retreated nine years ago. His body was physically healed after three years, Natalya. But he remained in a coma for another two years. His mind wasn't ready to cope with the outside world, and so it remained shut down. It remained shutdown, until he was ready to start living again. I think that's what's happening now. I think. . .I think he'll come back to us when he's ready," Rowanne answered.

Natalya murmured, "I hope so. I am. . .I am still forgiving him, you understand?" She couldn't forgive him. Not totally. But she was getting there, and she wanted him to recover. It would be harder this way. But. . . It would be worth it. The computer programmer would have said more, but Alec did begin to stir, and Natalya really thought she shouldn't be here when that happened. Besides. Rowanne Trevelyan had the situation under control. She put her own hand on Rowanne's shoulder and said softly, "Thank you." That obviously startled the other woman, for she turned to look at Natalya. The Russian continued, "Thank you for not interfering when I wanted to see the tapes. I had to see them. I had to know why my friends and co-workers at Severnaya had to die."

Alec moaned again, drawing the attention of the two women, and Natalya squeezed Rowanne's shoulder again, saying, "I will leave you now. You do not need me here. Nor does he. I shall close the door on the way out." Rowanne nodded, and thanked Natalya by putting her hand over Natalya's. It was odd, really, how ties were formed. An illusion had been shattered, and the truth was slowly taking its place. Along with that new truth was an alliance, between two women whose worlds had been shattered and then reformed by GoldenEye.

* * *

Oh gods. . .his head hurt. That was the first thing that Alec Trevelyan knew. A steady, drum-like pounding in his head. The second thing was the sensation of a cool cloth against his torso. He gave a low groan, and a gentle voice murmured, "Easy, Alec, you're safe." Rowanne. Alec allowed himself a tiny smile. It was good, that she was here. And then something occurred to him. Safe. She told him that he was safe. Why would she say that?

Why wouldn't he be safe? That made no sense. Alec realized he would have to finish waking up, so he could find out what the bloody hell was going on. He slowly opened his eyes. Rowanne, evidently anticipating this, had closed the blinds in their room, so the bare minimum of light filtered into the room. She sat beside him, a washcloth hanging over the side of a basin resting on her nightstand. Rowanne smiled at him, touching his cheek, and murmured, "Welcome back. How do you feel?"

"My head is killing me," Alec murmured. _Oh, that hurt_. Even talking hurt. However, Rowanne was prepared for this as well. How did she do that? One of these days, she would have to tell him how she didthat, how she was almost always prepared for whatever came their way. One day. Right now, he gulped the glass of water she presented to him and the aspirin. Although, in truth, Alec felt like he neededaspirin the size of a bus. He would take what he could get, however.

With the aspirin safely swallowed, Alec leaned back, sighing quietly. Rowanne asked, "Do you remember what happened?" What happened? Alec closed his eyes, trying to focus his attention on something other than his still-thudding head. Rowanne's hand covered his own, and she said softly, "Don't try so hard, Alec. Just relax." Alec smiled faintly and allowed his fingers to curl around hers. Rowanne answered with a squeeze of her hand, and Alec jerked her all the way on to the bed. She squeaked in surprise, then laughed.

"Stay with me," Alec murmured, though he wasn't sure why he made that request of her. It wasn't his way, to ask her to stay. Much less with everything that was going on right now. But. . .Alec felt so strange. Like. . .like his world had just turned into a Hieronymus Bosch painting. . .or maybe Vincent van Gogh. He never opened his eyes. He didn't need to. Rowanne's arms slipped around him, and he felt her hair against his bare shoulder. Bare skin. Had he been swimming? No, his hair wasn't wet.

He was mostly dry, aside from the moisture from the washcloth. What happened? Alec gave up on trying to figure that out, and instead, focused on the warmth of his wife's body next to his own. Her hand slid up and down his torso. The ex-agent gritted his teeth. He realized it was meant to be soothing, but the action generally sent blood rushing to the most inconvenient of places. Without ever opening his eyes, Alec reached over with his free hand and trapped hers on his chest. It was much safer there.

He felt gentle kisses being pressed to his forehead, the tip of his nose, each cheekbone, his lips, the corners of his mouth, his chin, the line of his jaw. But these were light kisses, designed to soothe, rather than inflame. Alec's arm tightened around his wife, because it was those kisses that alerted him. Something was wrong. He asked softly, "Rowanne? What is it? What's troubling you?" She didn't answer. That was the second clue. The only time Rowanne stalled in answering his questions was. . .

An image exploded in his brain, causing Alec to gasp. The image showed to him Rowanne, bent on a Catherine wheel, her wrists bound and suspended over her head. But the picture blurred and faded, before disappearing altogether. The picture that took its place was far worse. This picture, he sensed, wouldn't go away. This picture, unlike its predecessor, it actually happened. In his mind's eye, he saw a young man with sweat-soaked blond hair and an all-too-familiar face, nearly broken with devices of medieval torture. Bloodied and beaten, exhausted and riddled with pain. Worse yet, he knew the young man's face. Knew it, because he saw that face every day when he looked in the mirror. Oh yes, he was quite a bit younger. But the fact remained. He was the young man who was tortured with medieval instruments of pain and interrogation.

He moaned aloud as the pictures flew through his mind. The torture. The discovery that they negated the choice he made in Scotland. The reminder of what Janus wanted to do to Rowanne when they first met her, because she was so innocent. He tried to tell himself that it was over, that Janus would never have a chance to harm Rowanne. He tried to tell himself that his wife and daughters were safe, but in his heart of hearts, Alec knew better. The game was afoot once more and it would take everything he had to survive its end.

Rowanne must have realized what he was thinking about. She must have realized the reason for his reaction. She must have, because she froze in his arms, whispering, "Oh, Alec. I'm so sorry, can you ever forgive me?" Forgive her? What was there to forgive? Alec forced his eyes open to look at his wife. There was grief in her eyes. Grief and guilt and sorrow and shame. But why? She did nothing wrong. _Nothing_, Janus whispered in the back of his mind, _but she did suggest it was time to watch the tapes_. The tapes. Those bloody tapes. Those bloody tapes, showing the bloody torture of his younger self.

_It wasn't her fault. It was a choice I made, and I won't let you unmake it, or try to push the responsibility off on my wife. It was my choice_. Janusfell silent. The first-born of the dark twins said aloud, "It wasn't your fault. You made the suggestion. I didn't have to take it. I could have said I wasn't ready. It was time. . .long past time for me to know what really happened. Did to us. I'm just sorry you had to see that. Much less when you were pregnant."

There was a hitch in her breathing, and Alec asked softly, "Did you really think that I wouldn't find out? Dylan told me. After I. . .after I found out about the changes in Janus. After you offered to show me the tapes. He told me that you saw them when you were six months pregnant with Sassy. He wanted me to know how brave you were. Not that he was telling me anything new. You and Natalya. Sabrina and Sassy. None of you asked to be part of this."

Rowanne lay her head back down on his chest, murmuring, "I've never felt brave. Much less that day. You weren't ready. You were still too fragile. Remembering just enough, and still not the entire picture." She pressed a light kiss to his chest, and Alec began caressing her hair. After a moment, Rowanne continued, "I don't. . .I wish. . .god, I should be comforting you right now, not the other way around!" Alec smiled a little.

"You _are_ comforting me, Rowanne. You are a comfort _to_ me. You always have been, from the moment I met you," he murmured. She never talked much about the day Janus almost killed her. He was so angry with her. And yet, in the end, he had to appreciate the irony. For revenge, the Janus Group was created. For revenge and redemption, it became something else entirely. Because while the Janus Group was reinvented as an anti-terrorist organization, in memory of Diana Bramwell, it continued in its new path as a means for Alec to redeem himself.

Given that, Alec couldn't allow Janus to harm Rowanne. There was more to it than that, of course. But that was how he appealed to his destructive alter ego. He reminded his alter ego of the gunshot that woke three-year-old Alek Denisov. Then he directed Janus' attention to the terrified five year old at her mother's side. Some scars never heal. Witnessing the deaths of his parents was one such scar, and Alec was damned if his daughter would go through that.

He felt warm tears on his skin, and Alec nearly groaned aloud. That was the one thing that could decimate both of them. . .both himself and Janus. Tears. Janus in particular feared the tears of a woman. In St. Petersburg, while Natalya was prisoner on that bloody train, Alec would silently beg her to start crying. He needed an impetus to break through the layers of cotton that seemed to surround him. St. Petersburg. The confrontation among the ruins. . .oh, gods! Alec did groan this time, and Rowanne whispered, "What is it? What's wrong, Alec?"

"I just remembered. Oh, God, Rowanne!" he rasped out. Rowanne pulled back, ever so slightly. He could see the fear in her eyes, and Alec pressed his hand against her cheek, lightly stroking the curve of her cheekbone. The touch soothed them both, and Alec leaned forward, kissing the palm of Rowanne's hand. He murmured, "I remember. James told me earlier. . .he told me about something that happened in Russia, something I didn't remember. Something. . .something I just remembered."

"What was it?" she asked softly, scooting up beside him. Alec wrapped his arm around her, drawing her close. She calmed him, allowing him to focus. Janus, for once, was silent. Perhaps he understood that he was coming dangerously close to shattering Alec's patience for good. Wounding with words was Janus' style, rather than Alec's, but the former double-oh agent had certain weapons of his own at his disposal. There was the obvious. . .threatening to kill them both. But he had other possibilities. Including getting rid of Janus once and for all. Just as Janus had access to memories that Alec didn't, Alec had access to information that his dark twin didn't have. And he had no compunction whatsoever about using that information.

"I remember. I remember learning that James was in St. Petersburg. He wanted to meet with Janus. Janus set up the meeting, but I pushed through, just enough to tell Xenia to tranq him, then put him in the helicopter. It was my best. . .my best chance to save them both. James and Natalya. I knew. . .if anyone could get out of that situation, it would be James. He could save himself. . .could save himself and her. Oh, god, I remember!" Alec told her, almost stumbling over his words to get them out.

Rowanne shifted, her free hand reaching out to stroke the hair away from his eyes, and she whispered, "Then tell me, Alec. Tell me all of it." He stared at her, and in a soft voice, he did just that. He told her about the discovery that James was arriving in St. Petersburg. . .about the meeting with his old friend among the statues. He told her about listening helplessly while Janus taunted James with the past, going so far as to bring up one of the last things Alec said to James, so many years earlier. His wife did what she did best. . .and just listened.

* * *

After being summarily dismissed by his erstwhile hostess, James found himself wandering about the manor. He bitterly resented the woman whom his old friend married. Passionately resented her. He never saw M behave as a servant, as she did when she told the girl that she would take care of the tape. In some ways, he realized he should have enjoyed seeing someone other than M with all the power, but he couldn't do it. Not when the person with the power was Alec Trevelyan's wife. 

And so he wandered around the Trevelyan home. It was a big house, in the Spanish style. A quick glance inside the pool room told him that they had an Olympic-sized pool, where the two Trevelyan daughters were cavorting. Actually, the current 006 and one of the Marines were cavorting with the youngest daughter, with Sassy, while Sabrina watched on the sidelines. She turned her head, as if sensing his eyes on her, and stared right at Bond. Her blue-gray eyes iced over with hatred and contempt. James withdrew, suddenly uneasy at the girl's expression.

She was very much Alec's daughter, and he had to remember that. . .even if she was only seventeen years old. He could not allow himself to forget that this was the girl who would have held him off with only a water gun at her disposal. In spite of himself, James found himself smiling. That was pure Alec, of course. He believed firmly that perception was as important as reality. Yes, Alec would have taught his daughter the same lesson. And in anyone other than Alec Trevelyan's daughter, James would have admired her moxie, even if he didn't approve of her methods. She could have gotten herself killed. He could have killed her, never even realizing that she was holding a water gun. That scared him.

But then, so did the emotions currently raging in his soul. Eighteen years earlier, he believed he watched Alec die. Nine years ago, he learned that Alec was alive and a traitor. Nine years ago, they fought atop the GoldenEye satellite. Nine years ago, he dropped Alec to what should have been his death. Nine years ago, he thought Alec was buried under the satellite antenna. Now, everything that he believed for the last nine years was thrown once more into chaos. Alec survived the explosion. . . but he was captured and tortured.

_Forgive me, James_, he had cried out. Forgive me. Forgive him, when there was nothing to forgive. When he was the one being hurt so terribly. And irrationally, those words only angered the double-oh agent further. Why did Alec insist on making this difficult? Why could he not simply allow James to hate him? Why? Why did his annoying wife fight so bloody hard to save his life? Why was any of this happening? James had no answers, and he had no way of dealing with his rage. He was angry. He was so angry.

He was angry with Alec for being alive, for being the Alec he remembered. . .and yet, at the same time, he wasn't. In some ways, he didn't recognize this Alec. There was gentleness in him that James didn't recognize. Even as a double-oh agent before being torn away from them, Alec wasn't exactly a gentle person. He couldn't afford to be. He couldn't afford to be nice. MI-6 existed so that the gentle people could keep their gentleness, their civility. Where, then, did the gentleness come from? Another question that couldn't be answered, and that made him angrier. In part because he had a sneaking suspicion that she had something to do with this.

Yes, angry. But not nearly as angry as remembering what was done to Alec. Not as angry as remembering the bitterness and contempt in the eyes of Evan White. As if James Bond was nothing to him, nothing but dirt under his heel. Not even in the eyes of his worst enemy did he ever see that degree of contempt. Evan White didn't care whom he was, didn't care what he could do. He wasn't worthy of Evan White's respect, and the former Marine had absolutely no problem whatsoever with demonstrating just that.

He hated Evan White. He hated Ourumov and Orlov, for what they did to Alec. He hated Rowanne Trevelyan for saving Alec. He hated Janus for simply existing. He hated himself for blaming people for things beyond their control. He hated himself for being _out_ of control. But what was he supposed to do? He was a double-oh agent, sworn to protect her Majesty the Queen. He was sworn to protect England. Alec betrayed them in the past. Or did he? James hated this. He hated being so uncertain. Uncertainty led to one being killed, and James really had no wish to die.

And yet, right then, there was nothing for him to do. No enemy to fight. He was exhausted. As exhausted as any of them. As exhausted as all of them. It would hurt nothing, he decided, if he returned to the quarters currently assigned to him, and rested for a while. But James Bond forgot one thing. . .with unrest came nightmares, and he had just witnessed a waking nightmare.


	12. The Dark Djinn

I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaack! And I do apologize for the delay. . .Alec decided to take a vacation, and only give me the barest hints at what came next. I'm still not entirely happy with this chapter, but I never am. I hope there won't be such a long wait for the next chapter. . .twill depend on the muses.

Chapter Eleven

The Dark Djinn

They lay like that for what seemed like several hours. . .Alec vocalizing what he remembered, as Rowanne curled up next to him, her head resting on his shoulder. At some point, while he told her about the days leading up to their first meeting, she took his hand, and their fingers entwined. He did all the talking. . .she only listened, but that was all she had to do. It was all he needed her to do. While his wife was ferociously protective of him, and he did appreciate that, he appreciated her listening even more. Eventually, he fell silent, needing to rest his voice for a few minutes, and give her a chance to say something. . .whatever she needed to say. But she was silent, as if processing everything she had heard.

He still had holes in his memory. There were still things that were fuzzy for him. He still had a long way to go before he even came close to redeeming himself for what he did while he was Janus. It was for that reason he said softly after several moments, "You know. . .I know this. . .I know you don't like it. But I have to finish things with James. You keep telling me that what happened wasn't my fault, and maybe it wasn't. But I still feel dirty inside. I have to finish things with him. . .I have to make things right with him, Rowanne. Even if it does mean letting him beat the bloody hell out of me."

His wife said nothing right away, but he knew better than to think she was asleep. At last, she answered quietly, "You're absolutely right, Alec. I don't like it. I don't like it one bit. There's a part of me which understands. . .things were always so complicated between the two of you. And I get that. . .that if Diana showed up tomorrow, and told me that she let me believe for the last three years that she was dead. . .oh, and by the way, she's running an Al-Qaeda cell, and she's here to kill my family. . .yes, I get that's how Bond feels about you. I do understand that. Here, in my mind. But you're my husband, Alec. And in my heart, I hate it. I hate it with every fiber of my being."

Yes, that summed it up rather nicely. Both the mental acknowledgment of Bond's issues and Rowanne's own feelings. She added, "In the end, it doesn't matter if I understand where Bond is coming from. My priority is my family. It's not him. It's you, it's Sabrina, it's Sassy, it's our guys. That's my family, that's my priority, my responsibility. But. . .but I also understand you won't feel whole again until this is done. Until you can put things back together in your own way, which probably means letting Bond kick your butt. I'll hate it. . .God, how I'll hate it. But I can't stop you. All I can do is pick up the pieces and put them back together."

Alec touched her face, wondering what deity was watching over him the night she came into his life. Why, after all the crimes he committed, he could be rewarded in such a way. When he could finally find his voice once more, Alec said huskily, "You know, I think you won my heart the night we met. I should have realized it then, but you are quite possibly the bravest person I've ever known. You stood up to me the first time we met. . .and our first night together. Do you remember what you said when I told you to undress? '_No. . .you do it_.' No one, except Xenia, spoke that way to Janus and got away with it. But I was so utterly charmed. . .I could never let him harm you."

Unexpectedly, Rowanne laughed and replied, "I remember. I also remember why I said that. My hands were shaking so badly, because I was so scared!" Alec grinned at that. Yes, he remembered that part as well. But he meant what he said. He might have been the secret agent, but she was far braver than he was. He couldn't say it outright, along with many other things. How did she do it. . .not just braving Xenia and the helicopter ride to save his life, but everything else she went through because of him? Almost going into premature labor after viewing those damned tapes. . .going through her pregnancy and childbirth alone, while he was unconscious. His hand stole to her midriff, and he shuddered at the idea of waking up in a world without Rowanne or Sassy. It could have happened. He could have lost them both then.

He never told her that he loved her. . .not because he didn't, but because it didn't seem enough. How could 'love' begin to encompass what he felt for her? Just as saying '_I'm sorry_' didn't seem to be enough at times. . . '_I love you_'seemed inadequate. He murmured, "I remember how frightened you were. That charmed me as well. I asked you why you were shaking so badly, and you told me, '_I'm afraid I'll disappoint you_.' You looked so vulnerable, Rowanne. I knew then I could never let Janus hurt you, no matter what happened. Not just because you were so vulnerable and so brave, but because you frightened him.I _had_ to protect you."

"It was you that first night, wasn't it? Did he make you pay for it later?" Rowanne asked softly. Strangely enough. . .no. No, Janus was more amused by Alec's take-over than he was angry. Plus, Janus felt everything Alec felt (not that Alec was about to tell Rowanne that, of course!). He shuddered in pleasure every time Rowanne moaned and whispered encouragement to Alec, though some of the suggestions were quickly silenced. Sex and violence were never very far apart for Janus. . .sex and violence, sex and pain. He had only to look at Janus' conduct on the train while he held Natalya captive. Rowanne added almost ruefully, "And please don't tell me that he came up with the idea of using the scarf. . .I've never looked at those things the same since." Alec actually laughed at that and shook his head. No, that was his own idea!

"No, actually. . .as surprising as it may be. . .he did not. I've never truly understood why, but he always willingly took a backseat when I went to you. I've never understood, because he always seemed to hate you. Not the way he hates James, but. . .it, it seemed his hatred was tinged with jealousy. And. . ." Alec explained, then halted, uncertain how to explain this other facet to his dark twin. Rowanne didn't say anything, though she gasped a little as his fingers stroked the soft skin just under her navel. (Good. . .maybe she would stop doing that when he was trying to concentrate. He really hoped not, though) When his wife was silent, aside from that soft little gasp, Alec went on, "I. . .I think he chose you over James. If James were to try to hurt you, I think Janus might break through any control I have to destroy him. He hates you, but he also trusts you. It makes no sense, I know, but. . ."

"This is Janus. I don't expect him to make sense," Rowanne answered dryly, and that made Alec laugh all over again. He rolled to his side and claimed a kiss from her, his hand sliding to her waist. Rowanne wasn't inclined to let him go so easily, and proceeded to kiss him quite thoroughly. Alec happily gave up any attempt at controlling the direction of whatever came next. . .though he did give a soft sigh when she pulled back. Not much, just enough to say whatever she needed to say. Rowanne asked, "So. Do you have to face Bond right away, or can we have a little grown-up time first?"

Alec leaned closer, murmuring, "James has waited nine years for this confrontation. He can wait another few hours." With that, he closed the remaining distance between them and kissed his wife. She slipped into his arms, her own arms and legs wrapping around him, drawing him into an embrace that left no escape. And he wanted none. For this woman. . .for his wife. . .and for his daughters, Alec would die. . .he would kill. The only thing he couldn't do was allow things to remain unresolved with James. He only hoped that he had as much courage as his wife did when it came time to confront his former best friend. Alec had a feeling his future was riding on that meeting. But for now. . . Alec's mind slipped away, and for a time there was no thought of any kind. Only sensation. Only pleasure. And in thedepths of Alec Trevelyan's mind, the dark djinn stirred, perhaps realizing he would soon be free.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Upstairs, in one of the 'guest' bedrooms, the other part of that unending circle was finding his own oblivion far less pleasant. There was a part of his mind that realized this was all a dream. . .realized there was no reason for him to be afraid or even nervous. But it was a very small part, because this was a disturbingly real dream. He could smell the mold. . .could feel the dampness, the moisture in the air. In his dreams, James Bond found himself in a place he had never been. . .in a place he only saw in a videotape, earlier that day. Before his former best friend collapsed in shock and horror.

He shone the muted flashlight around the prison, shuddering. He was a seasoned agent, but this place. . . While he was growing up, he did a great deal of traveling about Europe. This old prison reminded him a great deal of the Roman ruins in Trier, Germany. He repressed another shudder, because forty year old memories shouldn't have such an effect on an agent with a license to kill. And as a boy, he could remember walking under the Coliseum, dark and dank, where the lions were kept before their games with the gladiators. It scared him then. . .just as this place did now.

Word reached them of a British agent, held hostage here, and 007 was sent. He was expecting many things as he reached the cell where the agent was kept. . .anything but the familiar blond head and equally familiar features of a friend long thought dead. James felt his blood run cold as he whispered, almost to himself, "Alec?" His hair was long and unkempt, and his head moved slowly in Bond's direction. A careful examination told him that the cell was unlocked and he eased inside. James whispered, seeing his friend's condition, "Oh my God, Alec. . . what did they do to you?"

He was thin. He was so thin. Alec was never a heavy man. . .always slim and athletic. But now? He bordered on emaciated, and had obviously been tortured. A pair of dull green eyes regarded James, and Alec whispered, his voice dry and raspy from dehydration, "You won't make me talk, damn you. You can't even pretend to be James properly." There was a terrifying meaning behind those words, and one that Bond didn't want to think about. He crouched in front of the exhausted, injured agent. When was the last time he was allowed to clean up? When was the last time his hair was cut, when was the last time he shaved?

"Alec, it's me. . .I've come to take you home," James whispered around the lump in his throat. _Oh, Alec. I should have tried harder. . .I should have taken you with me, but I didn't know. . .I didn't know that you were alive, just unconscious_. The green eyes focused on him a little more, and Alec's lips moved within the thick beard. He was mouthing 'James,' as if his voice was failing him. James, however, had no such problems. He said, "I've come to take you home, Alec. It'll be all right. I'll take care of you now." With those words, he abandoned his idea to ask Alec to try to walk. It would be easier to carry him. He slid one arm under Alec's knees and the other arm around his shoulders and lifted him.

Alec groaned a little, but didn't try to fight James. He seemed to be in shock, whispering over and over, "You came? You're here?" James blinked back his tears, holding his friend tightly. And Alec. . .his best friend, his little brother in all the ways that mattered. . .let his head rest against the older agent's chest like an exhausted, trusting child. He had only taken a few steps out of the cell when he heard a gun click behind him. James turned slowly, still cradling Alec protectively against his chest. . .to find Janus standing there. 007 looked down at the figure in his arms, half-expecting to see Natalya there instead, but it was still Alec he carried.

"You can't have him that easily, James," Janus said mockingly. He was the same man James saw last in Cuba, nine years earlier. His dark blond hair cut short, one side of his face marred by the scars. Janus smiled coldly and added, "He's still mine, James. I was created for him. . .he created me. I take care of him. . .since you did such a terrible job of it."

James just tightened his arms around Alec protectively. No. No, Janus couldn't have him. . .he wouldn't let that happen. Not again. Bond didn't reply to the mocking words or even more mocking tone. That was what Janus wanted. A second figure stepped out of the shadows, a young girl in her very early twenties. Janus reached out his hand and she took it, slipping to his side. Janus continued, "Isn't she intoxicating, James? So young. So innocent. So very vulnerable." He dipped his head and kissed her deeply. Bond watched in silent astonishment as a gun appeared in the traitor's hand. He pressed it into the girl's side back and fired once. She slumped against his body, and Janus added, breaking the kiss, "And so very dead. It was her own fault, you see. She came between me and Alec."

Now James could see the girl. . .it was Rowanne Bramwell. Her dark hair covered her pale face, but he knew it was her. He hadn't liked the girl, but that didn't mean he wanted to see her dead. Resolutely, he placed Alec on the ground behind him to deal with Janus once and for all. As he turned back around, he drew his gun and fired. . .only to gasp in horror as Alec crumpled to the ground, a red spot appearing on his shirt. James ran forward and drew his best friend into his arms, cradling him against his chest as Alec whispered, "Forgive me, James." Alec went very still, and then. . .he was gone.

When James raised his head, it was to find Janus in the spot where he left Alec. The traitor mocked, "Poor James. . .you still don't understand, do you? No, of course not. As I've said before. . .you always did have a small mind. We're not so easily separated, Alec and myself. He needs me. . .he needs me to look after him and to avenge him. Avenge a three year old boy who lost his parents. . .avenge a young agent who was captured and tortured, thanks to the incompetence of the man who was supposed to be his best friend. You allowed him to be captured, you allowed him to go through those experiments that created me!"

Gently, oh so gently, James lay Alec's body down beside the girl who tried to heal him, then rose to his feet. He aimed his gun at Janus, answering, "If that's true, then I helped to make you. And if I made you, then I can destroy you." He squeezed the trigger, watching in satisfaction as the bullet tore into Janus' chest, spinning him around, before he collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut. James put the gun away, paused long enough to gently kiss Alec's forehead in farewell, then stalked over to the dead man. He nudged his foot under the lifeless body, then flipped him over. . .only to see his own face staring back at him.

James woke with a start, gasping heavily as sweat poured down his face. A quick check told him that he was in the room assigned to him by Rowanne Trevelyan. The sun was streaming in through the windows, and James sank back against the pillows, trembling. _It was just a dream. . .just a dream_. Or so he tried to tell himself. He tried to tell himself that it wasn't real, that it was just his imagination running overtime. He tried to tell himself that. . .it didn't matter. None of it mattered. But, of course, that was the greatest lie of all.

There was so much left unsaid and undone between himself and Alec Trevelyan. No matter how much he wanted to believe otherwise, James now knew that Alec's wife was telling the truth all along. _Damn her to hell. Damn her for being right. Damn her for saving Alec_. Damn her for succeeding where James Bond failed.

But in the end, this wasn't about Rowanne Bramwell Trevelyan at all. It was about James Bond and Alec Trevelyan. It was about a long-time friendship which ended twice in disaster. It was about redemption and it was about atonement. It was about forgiveness. It was time he and Alec settled things between them. Yet, James Bond could not settle things the way a normal man did. He couldn't, because he wasn't a normal man. He gave up all pretensions of being normal years earlier, when he joined MI-6. It was his pleasure and his sacrifice. James rose to his feet, and opened the door to go out in search of his old enemy and even older friend.

AAAAAAAAAAAAA

While the dramas and the traumas were playing out in the media room and in the bedrooms, Sebastian Miller was getting to know Alec Trevelyan's daughters. He already saw the footage. . .it was done as part of his research, and it was very un-agently of him, but he had no need, to see Alec Trevelyan tortured again. Charles Robinson was given an out by Alec and Rowanne, but he opted to watch it anyhow. He needed to know what they were up against, just like everyone else. Sebastian, however, already knew.

What he didn't know was much about Sabrina or Sassy. He knew their names were, respectively, 'Jamie Sabrina Trevelyan' and 'Anastasia Alexandra Trevelyan.' He knew Sabrina would turn eighteen near the end of the year, and that Sassy was eight years old. And he knew that around the time Sabrina was conceived, on a moor in the Scottish Highlands, Alec Trevelyan made a decision to rise above his betrayers and not seek vengeance for the deaths of his parents and his older brothers. All that, and more, Sebastian already knew. What he didn't know was what the girls were like.

He quickly learned that in some ways, Sabrina was a younger, female version of her father. Yes, she was very much Alec Trevelyan's daughter. . .for one thing, he learned that when Bond broke into the Trevelyan home, along with M and Charles, Sabrina held Bond at bay with a water pistol. As soon as he heard that story, Sebastian knew that he would email Q, and let him know. Q, no doubt, would find the notion of anyone holding Bond at bay with a water pistol immensely amusing. Sebastian certainly did, and he hadn't been annoyed by Bond nearly as long as Q had!

He also learned that Sassy didn't leave all the fun to her older sister. When she saw her father lying unconscious in her mother's arms, and saw Bond aiming a pistol at them, the eight year old immediately went on the attack, kicking Bond in the shins and yelling at him for hurting her daddy! Sebastian truly wished that he could see footage of that, and made a mental note to ask one of the security operatives if they had a tape of either confrontation. If the answer was yes, he would find a way to get it back to the Q division. . .maybe a few other divisions as well!

There was more, too. While they watched Sassy gallivant in the pool with some of the Janus operatives, Sabrina confided that learning the whole truth about the beginning of her father's affair with Rowanne was hard to hear. The father she knew was loving and almost tentative with both her and Sassy. As if he was afraid of breaking them in some way. It was hard for her to reconcile the vengeful, malevolent Janus with the gentle father she knew and loved. Harder still to comprehend why her step-mother, who suffered so much because of Janus, would still love him.

She deliberately waited until Sassy couldn't hear them. Her little sister, Sabrina admitted outright, only cared that he was her daddy, and the very best daddy in the world. Sabrina, however. . .it wasn't so easy for her. She grew up without a father, then watched her mother slowly waste away with cancer. After her mother's death, she was then drawn into her father's life, resenting her new step-mother in the beginning. Now she was accustomed to them both, and even admitted to loving Rowanne, to feeling protective of her. . .and the revelations about her father sent her spinning once more.

Where did it end? Even now, moments after that conversation, Sabrina's question echoed in his mind. Where does it all end? The lies, the secrecy, the revelations? There was so much about her father, and about her step-mother, that she didn't know. That she didn't understand. So much about their relationship, come to that, which she didn't understand. Why her father, who utterly adored her step-mother, never told her how very much he loved her. Sabrina was very young, but it was so obvious to her how Alec felt about Rowanne.

The teenager further confided in Sebastian that she knew about the tapes. . .knew there was something terrible and shocking on them. She knew that the tapes showed her father being tortured, and she was working up the courage to sneak into the media room sometime while her father and step-mother were away (preferably in town with Sassy), to watch those tapes. She knew watching them nearly sent Rowanne into premature labor, and Sabrina had to see them. It was just that. . .she was afraid. She was so afraid. Once she saw them, how would she keep it from her father. . .keep it from him that she knew?

Sebastian didn't answer. . .he didn't have any answers for her. And she wasn't looking for any answers. She just wanted someone to listen to her. Normally, her father and step-mother were great about letting her vent. But things went a little crazy ever since Sassy got sick. It was the first time she was that sick, and it terrified Rowanne_. She must have had terrible flashbacks to the time when Dad was in a coma_, Sabrina told Sebastian, _because the only time she left Sassy until her fever broke was to use the bathroom_. When her fever finally broke, Sabrina offered to let Sassy sleep with her, so her dad could take care of Rowanne.

And Rowanne, true to form, couldn't let go until she knew everyone had eaten. So her father told her later, once Rowanne was asleep, and he could walk away for a few minutes. He carried her downstairs, Rowanne cradled against his chest, only barely awake. Sabrina watched him carry her. It was the first time she saw her step-mother that vulnerable, and she felt her world turn upside down. It frightened her. . .it frightened her then, and it frightened her the previous night, when Rowanne fainted.

It brought back memories of watching her mother die_. I can't go through that again_, Sabrina whispered, wrapping her arms around her legs, _I can't. I couldn't bear it if anything happened to my father or to Rowanne. Or to Sassy_. She looked up at Sebastian then, her blue-gray eyes filled with fear, as well as terrible determination, and she added, _I'll do anything in the world to protect them. Whether it's from that horrible man who captured my father all those years ago or from James Bond, it doesn't matter. If anyone hurts my family, I'll kill them_.

Sebastian didn't doubt her for an instant. It did hurt him, though. . .that this girl believed it would be necessary to kill to protect her family. That wasn't her responsibility. She was supposed to be enjoying her final year of high school and preparing for college. But life was seldom fair, and like her father before her, Sabrina was finding it necessary to grow up quickly. Maybe it started when she was barely a teenager and she found out that her mother was dying of cancer. It was, no doubt, hell for the child. And it would get worse before it got better. He had seen Orlov's handiwork. He knew what the man was capable of doing. The scientist didn't see people as human beings. He saw them as overgrown dolls, to be used for his pleasure. The idea of Sabrina, or Sassy, in the hands of that monster. . .

It wasn't Sabrina's responsibility to protect her family, to destroy Orlov before he could destroy them. It was Sebastian's. It was because of children like Jamie Sabrina Trevelyan, and her little sister, that he joined MI-6. He also joined because of their father. Sebastian knew that Alec Trevelyan, and his wife, would die protecting the two girls. He was also aware of M's theory that Rowanne was pregnant, as was Natalya Simonova. That meant Sebastian would be twice as vigilant in protecting the Juturna, as the Janus operatives called her.

In the meantime, he watched Sassy splash and play with her 'uncles,' the Janus operatives. It amazed Sebastian. Here were these big, tough blokes, who could snap Bond in half (not that he would ever get that lucky, of course), and they were just big marshmallows when it came to an eight year old girl. They were so gentle with her, and handled her with such care. Sabrina told him, laughing a little, that there were times her little sister wrapped the operatives around her little finger so thoroughly, she actually conned them into playing 'tea party' with her. He would have paid good money to see that!

There was absolutely no way that James Bond would ever do such a thing. He couldn't imagine the older agent ever getting down on his hands and knees to play with a little girl. And yet, the Janus operatives (to say nothing of the Marines) did just that. According to some of the operatives, too, they changed Sassy's nappies when she was a baby. Definitely a sight fit for a camera. When he mentioned this to Sabrina, she shrugged and told him, "They didn't have anything else to do, Agent Miller. They were standing down, because my step-mother had no idea what she was supposed to do. And after Aunt Diana was killed. . .all of that changed."

Ah, yes. . .Diana Bramwell, the eldest of the Bramwell Beauties, as they were called. Evidently, her death was the catalyst, the reason why the Janus Group became an anti-terrorist army. He still didn't know exactly how she died, but it must have been devastating, to have such an effect on her younger sister. It had to be something terribly shocking, or Rowanne would have never retooled the Janus Group into its current incarnation.

He had his suspicions, of course, but until he knew for certain, he would keep his ideas to himself. Sebastian was a guest in Rowanne and Alec Trevelyan's home, and it would be rude of him to broach such a painful subject with his hostess. It was far wiser to wait until she mentioned it. . .that way, she could tell him about it on her terms. Given the home invasion of the first MI-6 wave, Sebastian believed that was the wisest and most sensible thing to do. . .to say nothing of the most compassionate. Regardless of what Bond thought, Rowanne Trevelyan wasn't the enemy. . .and Sebastian refused to treat her like she was.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

He waited until Rowanne was deeply asleep before he left their room to do what had to be done. Despite her protests to the contrary, she was still exhausted from taking care of Sassy and everything else that went on during the last few days. And she took care of him. . .from the moment she came for him in the helicopter with Xenia until the day he opened his eyes, she took care of him, she looked after him. It was only right that he take care of her once in a while.

Alec pressed a light kiss against his wife's dark hair, murmuring, "I would die for you," then slid off the bed. He knew very well that Rowanne would have told him that she didn't want him to die for her. She said so in the past, when he told her that he would do just that. But for a man who spent so many years, putting his life on the line for his friends and for his country, it was the only way he knew how to tell her how much she meant to him. Alec Trevelyan wouldn't die for England, not now. But he would die for Rowanne, and for their daughters. . .if only because Rowanne and the girls were worthy of that sacrifice.

He found his operatives in the training room, and Alec stopped to watch. As ever, he kept to the shadows, not wanting the men to realize he was there. It was easier for him to note strengths and weaknesses if the newest recruits weren't trying to impress him. And the idea that anyone would want to impress him was something Alec found it hard to wrap his mind around. After what he had done. . .never mind the brainwashing and everything else, he did still those things. . .he found it hard to believe that anyone would want to emulate him. In fact, he actively encouraged Sassy when she told him she wanted to be just like Mommy when she grew up. "Yes, be like your mother, Sassy. . .be yourself, but if you must be like Mummy or like me, then I want you to be like your mother." So he told his youngest daughter once.

Once. That was what, six months ago? Something like that. . .Sassy hadn't yet turned eight, and as children often do, she wanted to know what he was like when he was her age. Or so Rowanne told him when he mentioned it to her. With two younger sisters, she had more experience with children, especially since her youngest sister was nine years younger. Besides, she raised Sassy alone for many years.

He didn't want to tell his daughter about growing up in the orphanage, about a lonely little boy making up stories about King Arthur and his knights. Instead, he asked if she knew any stories about her mother. Sassy didn't. . .she was a very, very little girl when Aunt Diana was here. . .but maybe Aunt Corliss or Aunt Lydia would have stories. And, like her mother, you could only distract Sassy for a certain amount of time. She asked him why he wanted to hear stories about Mommy, and he explained that he wanted Sassy to grow up to be herself. . .but if she was to be like either of her parents, he wanted her to be like her mother.

Sassy, of course, didn't understand that at all, but accepted this anyhow. Remembering that conversation now, Alec smiled to himself. She was such an amazing child, Anastasia Alexandra Trevelyan! So bright and inquisitive. . .everything he would have wanted her to be. And he was so proud of her, the way she took to Sabrina when his elder daughter arrived from Phoenix. . .she was so happy to have a big sister! Although, she confided to Alec later, she would really like to have a little sister now. . .could he and Mommy talk to Santa Claus about getting her a little sister?

Bemused, Alec asked her why she thought Santa would give her a little sister. She rolled her eyes, reminding Alec once more of her mother, and replied, '_well, 'cause I asked Santa for a big sister, and he gave me one_!' Alec didn't have the heart to set her straight, because she was so pleased about Sabrina's arrival. Besides, it spared him from having the dreaded Talk with her right away. He told Rowanne as much when he repeated the conversation to her, and she just laughed outright, telling him that their luck wouldn't hold forever.

Unfortunately, she was all too right about that, though right now, Alec wasn't sure what was more terrifying. . .having the Talk with Sassy, or dealing with the monsters who captured and tortured him all those years ago. There were times when he thought the former was much more frightening. He. . . A step behind him alerted him that he was no longer alone, and Alec turned, to find James Bond standing there. 007 smiled thinly and said, "These youngsters look like they need a little help. Shall we show them the way to do it, 006?"

_I'm alone._

_Aren't we all? You're late, 007._

A slightly sheepish look_. Had to stop in the bathroom._

_Ready to save the world again, James?_

_After you, 006._

The memory rushed through Alec's mind, leaving him breathless. The coldness in his former partner's blue eyes warned him that there was nothing friendly in the statement. That was fine. Alec wasn't expecting anything else. He gave a small shrug and replied, "If you so desire, 007." In the back of his mind, he could sense Janus stirring once more, and the former agent demanded that his dark twin remain silent.

Janus jeered at him, making Alec painfully aware of the fact that he would find it necessary to find this battle on two fronts. . .he would have to keep Janus under control, and he couldn't hold back with James, either. James would know it. He knew Alec too well. At the same time, the former agent held no illusions about himself. . .he wasn't as young as he used to be. James' smile grew even colder, and he breathed, "Oh, I wish it, 006. You have no idea how much I desire it." Yes, Alec imagined so.

Even so, he beckoned his former friend forward with a slight nod, and called to his men, "All right, everyone. . . enough for now. Take a twenty-five minute break, get a shower, go swimming, but keep your minds on the paths of purity!" The younger recruits just exchanged mystified glances. Good. That probably meant that either a) they hadn't met Sabrina yet or b) they hadn't seen her in a swimsuit. The veterans all laughed, a knowing sound which meant they came to the same conclusions. Unlike the younger members, however, most of them knew Sabrina when she first arrived, and though she was a teenager at the time, she was still a little girl in many ways. And as far as Alec was concerned. . .she still was!

There were some who remained. . .Alec heard a few of them muttering, '_like to see the boss take down this arrogant bastard_.' That remained to be seen. Still, he appreciated the votes of confidence, and the support of his men. Alec wished he had time for a warm-up, but he really didn't think James would allow him that time. Ah, well. He did without before. As he headed out toward the mat where the sessions were held, he was on his guard. . .and a good thing. Before they even reached the mat, James went for his knees in a tackle, and the fight was on. Alec twisted to one side, hit the mat in a roll, and came up facing James in a fighting stance. Everything Alec ever learned about fighting returned to him in a breath. He immediately went on the defensive, blocking kicks and punches as if the last time he had done it was the previous day instead of nine years ago. He wanted things settled. That didn't mean he would just roll over and die.

_Let me deal with him_, Janus demanded a few minutes into the fight, already growing impatient, _I'll make sure he never harms you, or your women again_. Alec tried to shut him out, and the lapse in concentration cost him dearly. The roundhouse kick to his ribs sent him sprawling backward several feet. The lapse in concentration and the knowledge that he really was getting too old for this. However, he bounded back to his feet. . .not as quickly as he might have done once, but he did get up, taking a few jabs at James in the process. One slipped through, the other was blocked. That wasn't good enough for Janus. The other practically blared at him, _You see? You need me, Alec! You won't fight him properly, let me do it_! Again, Alec made a concerted effort at pushing the dark twin to the back of his mind, and again, it cost him.

It was worse. . .and it took him a little longer to get to his feet. But now James didn't allow him that time. Another kick sent him back to the mat, then James was on him, fingers winding around his windpipe, cutting off his air. The back of Alec's head impacted with the mat, and remembering what his wife did the night before, the former agent drove his knee up between his opponent's legs. He didn't want to hurt James, not badly. But he was reaching the point where he was fighting for his life, and he had to maintain control of Janus. Fighting dirty could end up saving his life. It worked, too. James immediately released him and rolled away, gasping for breath. Alec rolled to his knees, doing the same, though for a vastly different reason.

Two of his men steamed toward James, obviously furious, but Alec shook his head. This was his battle to fight. The pair looked at each other, then reluctantly backed off. Neither of them liked it. He could see it in their eyes. But they did it. Alec returned his attention to James, asking in a hoarse voice, "You ready to stop fighting and start listening? Or do you want another go-around? You don't have to worry about my men. . .they won't interfere."_ I, on the other hand_, Janus fired back, _am a totally different story! I **will** interfere_! Alec told him to shut up and returned his attention to James.

The older man made no verbal answer, just lunged at Alec. The former 006 dove out of the way, going into a forward roll that sent a spasm of pain through his back. His body was reminding him, once more, that it wasn't thirty-five any more. He thanked it for its reminder, then asked if it would please bloody well shut up until after this fight! Janus observed rather petulantly, _If you spent as much time fighting James as you do me, you would have won this fight by now_. Janus wanted to kill James. All those times when Alec derailed Janus' attempts to kill the other operative. . .that bill was coming up for collection now.

In more ways than one, as the tip of James' boot connected with Alec's cheek, and that kick was followed up with one to his gut, driving all the air out of his lungs. Janus was temporarily silenced, but as Alec tried to push himself to his feet to fight back, another kick dropped him to the ground. His head hit the mat hard and dizziness swamped over him. Had to get up, had to get up, had to finish this, before James finished him. That was the whole thing right there, wasn't it? Alec realized now where he made his mistake. No, it wasn't in holding back. . .it was neglecting to see that James was not holding back. He made the mistake of thinking that James was thinking. . .he could have ended this fight long ago, if he noticed that.

Of course, it was now too late. . .kicks were peppering his body, and Alec had his hands full trying to keep Janus from killing James. And it was then that James made his own fatal mistake. Alec was flipped onto his back and James bent down, hissing, "I'm going to shut you down, Alec. . .your organization, and then I'm going to see to it that your wife spends the rest of her life in prison, and your daughters will become wards of the state. You're finished, Alec, and so is she!" Janus gave a howl of rage, and an all-too-familiar feeling swept over Alec. . .he was becoming a prisoner in his own body again. He could feel Janus breaking free. It was Alec's turn to cry out, as oblivion claimed him. The dark djinn was loose once more.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

_Free at last_! For three years, he was pushedback, forced to look at the world through Alec's eyes. Forced to simply observe as Alec lived, as he played with his daughter, ran the Janus Group, made love to his wife. But he was free now. He was in control again, as he should have been all along. And the first thing he would do was deal with James Sodding Bond! As much as he hated Rowanne Bramwell, for weakening his influence over Alec, he hated Bond more. Rowanne weakened his influence over Alec, but he could trust her to look after him. Janus didn't like it. . .but he learned a few things over the last few years. On the other hand, Bond didn't give a damn about Alec. He didn't give a damn eighteen years ago, and he certainly didn't give a damn now. That was fine. It was time, and long past time, for Janus to teach him a lesson.

No one threatened Alec's family. . .Janus was the only one who could do that. He relished his control of Alec's muscles, and pushed himself slowly upright as Bond sauntered away. Janus brushed Alec's blond hair out of his eyes with a casual wave, and smirked at the tiny brunette who was surrounded by men. He winked at her, knowing fully well that it would alert her that it was he who was in charge right now, not Alec, and said, "Finished, are you, James? Good. Then it's my turn." Bond spun around, his eyes widening, and Janus attacked. Turn about was fair play, after all.

Though he practiced with his men, Alec was still a bit out of shape. On the other hand, he was six years younger than Bond, and that worked in his favor. Besides, during the initial fight, Janus observed, even as he pestered Alec into letting him take control. He noticed the things that Alec missed, and used those to his full advantage. Alec held back. He didn't. He rained punches and kicks onto Her Majesty's Loyal Terrier (although, perhaps he shouldn't call Bond a 'terrier.' From Janus' point of view, that was a terrible insult to terriers everywhere). It felt sooo good to be free, and even better to fighting Bond once again. . .this time, without Alec holding him back, and fighting to save the English bastard.

And then it happened. He was pummeling Bond, when a woman cried out, "Alec, stop!" Damn him to hell, Alec did it. . .he stopped what Janus was doing. _Damn her_! Alec then forced Janus to release Bond, and turned to face Alec's wife. She was still among the operatives for the Janus Group, and she repeated, her voice much softer, "Stop it. The girls shouldn't have to see this." Janus glowered at her, unwilling to give up and go back into the darkness. He allowed Alec to win this battle, but it wasn't over yet.

"There are times," he hissed, glaring at Rowanne, "when there are no words to describe how much I hate you." There was only a flicker of hurt in her dark eyes. Then again, she always was a brave child, just as Alec said. Of all the reasons Janus had for hating her, cowardice was never among them. Nor was a lack of intelligence. She knew exactly who was in command right now. She knew that it was Janus who was beating James Bond to a bloody pulp. He looked away from her long enough to ascertain the damage. What he saw gave him a grim sense of satisfaction. _Good. Good_.

"The feeling is one hundred percent mutual, Janus. . .believe me, I hate you just as much as you hate me," Rowanne replied coolly. Janus almost smiled at that. He believed her. There was as much hatred in her as there was in him. The young woman continued, "But no matter how much I hate you, and how little use I have for Commander Bond. . .I won't let you do this. I won't let you hurt Alec like that. He's been hurt enough. You know that. I know that."

Damn her, he was really starting to hate her now. . .especially since she was making perfect sense. Janus turned back and told Bond, "Take a good long look at her, 007. The woman you threatened just a few minutes ago, wants me to spare your pathetic life. And I will. Because she asked it of me, and because she's right. I despise you. . .I despise the very ground you walk on. But Alec has suffered enough, and if I kill you, he will never forgive himself. If I kill you, then I'm dead as well. Alec told me once, he warned me that if I harmed you or Rowanne, he would kill us both. He made good on that promise. And I don't want to die."

"Will you answer our questions, then?" a new voice asked from the doorway, and Janus turned in that direction. _Ahhh, this wouldbe the new M_. _The woman_. She was small, around the same height as Rowanne, with short silver hair and bright blue eyes. And like Rowanne, she stood her ground when he turned his gaze upon her. The lady M continued, "We have many questions about how you came to be, and the people who created you. Will you tell us what we want to know? Will you tell us of the ones who created you?"

This time, Janus laughed outright, answering, "Created me? You have that completely and totally backward! Orlov didn't create me! Alec did! He needed me, because they were hurting him, so badly, in ways that no one should ever be hurt. Have you seen the footage? Do you know what they did to him? Did you know that they hung him by his wrists from a ceiling fan, while he had broken ribs? Did you know about the Catherine wheel when they tried to break him? Or the times when they tried to get Alec to turn, by impersonating Bond there? They didn't create me, woman. . .I created _myself_. **Someone** had to look out for Alec."

"The question remains," another voice said, this time from behind Rowanne. Janus turned his attention to the younger woman. The speaker was an old man, and his hands were placed lightly on Rowanne's shoulders. Janus recognized him from Alec's memories. This was William Pryce-Meecham. . .someone whom Alec loved. Someone who loved Alec. This man was a father to him, or so said Alec's memories. Pryce-Meecham continued, "Will you tell us what we want to know? You say you exist to protect Alec? Then help us do the same!"

"Why, what would you like to know? Perhaps about the journals Alec's dear wife keeps under her bed, and has told Alec that he may never read those? The journals which chronicles what was done to him by that pathetic excuse for a scientist, Orlov? Or maybe you'd like to know about Alec's nightmares? The nightmares he has about the things I've done to protect him? See, that's why you should never let people know what you do to protect them. Often times, they can't handle the knowing," Janus mocked. All of it was true, but that was beside the point. MI-6. . .none of them were any friends of his. He owed them nothing.

"Is this true, child? Did you record what you saw on those tapes in your journal?" M asked. Rowanne nodded, her eyes never leaving Janus. He almost shook his head. She really was quite extraordinary. Ten years ago, if someone told him that the mousy little brunette he and Alec found lurking in the shadows of the ball would turn out to be such a fierce little wildcat, he would have never believed them. And yet, he should have. . .even then, she had the courage to stand up to him. He wondered if anyone in her family, aside from the late Diana, even understoodjust who this woman really was. Unlikely. They hadn't the brains for it.

"It's true. . .I needed some way of dealing with what I saw, so I wrote it all down in a journal. . .in many journals. Once Alec awoke, and I realized he didn't remember anything, I knew he couldn't see those journals. At least, not until he remembered what happened. Maybe it doesn't make any sense to you, but I was trying to protect him," Rowanne replied. Janus practically beamed at her with pride. She continued, looking confused, "I don't get it. I thought you, like Xenia, despised me."

"Hatred isn't the same thing, darling girl. I think he hated you because you challenged his control of Alec. . .but he respected you for your courage and for standing up to him. He despises James. . .something else entirely. All right. Let's take this into another room, shall we? I have questions I need answered, and since Alec can't answer those questions, you're my only chance at learning the truth," Pryce-Meecham said. Janus swept a mocking bow, and then indicated that they should go first. No sense in tempting fate, after all. And Bond, he was amused to discover, was practically dragged from the room. His work here was almost done, then!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAA

He should have quit while he was ahead. . .but he lost his cool. And he actually knew that even before Janus hissed at him, "Finished, are you, James? Good. Then it's _my_ turn." But hearing that cool, clipped voice returned him to a satellite tower in Cuba, nine years in the past. Even as he turned, James was already preparing himself for what was to come. Or, he thought he was preparing himself for it. The truth was, he never even guessed that Alec was holding back, to avoid truly harming him. Not until Janus took command.

He went too far, when he threatened Alec's wife and family. But he. . .he wasn't thinking. The dream. . .the dream shook him up badly, almost as badly as seeing Alec tortured. His dream. . .his nightmare. . .forced him to confront a number of things. Including his fear that he was really no better than Janus. It forced him to admit that he feared that he was responsible for what was done to Alec all those years ago. James Bond was a double-oh agent. . .he had the license to kill, and he did kill. But that didn't mean he thought only about the next woman or vodka martini or the next car he could blow up.

As he was dragged into another room by a pair of hulking Janus operatives (or were they Marines?), he was greeted by another 006. . .Sebastian Miller, who stood with a dripping-wet Sabrina Trevelyan. Sabrina's eyes went first to the demon wearing her father's face, noticing the bruises on his cheek and the hand pressed against his side, then she stared at James. Janus said, "As you can see, my dear. . .he's in far worse shape than I." Sabrina looked back at Janus and actually took a step backward, until she was behind 006. She knew. James didn't know how it was possible, but she knew.

This was proven a moment later, when she said flatly, "You aren't my father. You're Janus." He actually looked surprised, and Sabrina continued, "I know who you are. I know what you did. And I tell you now, if you've harmed my father. . ." The threat went unfinished. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, and she glared at Janus. Who, in turn, simply stared at her in astonishment. Amazing. . .there were some things that could actually throw the bastard off. 006 put his arm around her shoulders tentatively, looking from Sabrina to Janus and back.

"I would never hurt your father, my dear. Or your sister. Or your step-mother. Or you, come to that. I learned the hard way that when your father makes threats, he keeps them. Even if it means his own death. I am here, because your father needed me. I am here, because Commander Bond threatened to destroy your father and step-mother, and make you and your sister wards of the state. That could not be permitted," Janus replied. A distinct growl could be heard from Rowanne Trevelyan, and Janus added, "That was the killing blow. Alec was fighting us both at the same time. I wanted to decimate James. . .Alec wouldn't let me. However, he also wouldn't simply allow Bond to beat him into a bloody pulp."

Sabrina slipped out of Miller's grasp, took three steps and slapped James hard across the face, drawing an amused smile from Janus. The teenager hissed, "Don't you ever threaten my family again! You aren't fit to shine my step-mother's shoes!" James shook his head, stunned by the slap and by the girl's fury. Admittedly, threatening to destroy her step-mother and to make her and her sister wards was not one of his brighter ideas. Any hope he might have had the previous night of exploiting the division between Sabrina and her father was gone. It also got him into hot water with M, whose expression could be best described as icy.

"Bree," Rowanne Trevelyan said quietly. Just that. Just the girl's name. Sabrina spat on him, then turned her back on him, as if he was of no more interest to her. But when she reached her step-mother's side, she dropped her head onto the woman's shoulder, trembling. The girl's step-mother put her arms around her briefly, allowing Sabrina to lean against her. After a few moments, however, she said softly, "Go get changed into dry clothing, hon. Where is Sassy? Is she still in the pool with the others?" Sabrina nodded.

"Yeah. . .yeah, Matt said that he would stay. Agent Miller noticed Dad, then one of the new recruits came into the pool room. He said that Dad was taking on Bond, and I got worried. So did Agent Miller," the teen answered. She straightened and took a deep breath, adding, "I know better than to ask if you'll take care of Dad. You always do. I can't stay here. Not while Janus is here. I'll. . .uhm. . .I'll go see if Miss Simonova needs any help. Or something. I just can't. . ." She shook her head mutely, and her step-mother hugged her again.

"It's okay, darlin.' I got it here. M and William have some questions to ask Janus. He's agreed to answer them, and it may not be a good thing for you or Sassy to be here. The last time Janus was out, Sassy was five years old, and I think it's a pretty good bet that she'll remember. I don't think Miss Simonova needs to be here, either. She suffered more than anyone else, except your father, because of Janus," she replied. Sabrina nodded, snuffling a little, hugged her step-mother one last time, then left the room. But not before giving James the evil eye. Another ten years, and she'd be just as dangerous as her father, no doubt!

As she left the room, however, Janus drawled, "A delightful young lady. Even more so, I think, because she pulled a water pistol on you, James!" Oh yes, of course, Janus had to remind him of that! The traitor turned his attention to the others in the room, saying, "You had questions you wanted answered. Questions, no doubt, pertaining to the disgusting beings who captured Alec all those years ago. Odd, you know. In one of those times I had full control, I had a rather interesting conversation with Xenia Onatopp. She had a peculiar sense of honor. Loved killing. . .found such a sexual thrill in killing and in pain. But she never had much use for drawing out the pain."

"Yes. What can you tell us about Orlov and the others?" William asked quietly, ignoring the soliloquy about Xenia Onatopp. But instead of looking annoyed, Janus only looked thoughtful. There was no contempt in the man's eyes when he looked at the aged MI-6 operative. No contempt. No hatred. There was actually. . .respect. Respect, perhaps even admiration. Which made James wonder. Did Janus have access to all of Alec's memories? To his shock, James now realized that he accepted Janus as an alternate personality.

"I can tell you that Alec fought with everything he had in those last days. When he realized that Orlov planned to conduct memory experiments on him. . .in effect, take everything away from Alec, he fought like a man possessed. I do believe he killed a few men when he was wrestled into the chair. It wasn't until after the memory wipe took place, that I made my appearance. Day by day, he lost a little more control. . .day by day, he lost a little more of himself. And day by day, I became stronger," Janus replied.

He paused, looking serious now, and went on, "I knew everything, you see. I knew about William Meecham-Pryce, one of the few people at MI-6 whom Alec could fully forgive for hiding the truth from him, the truth about his parents' deaths. And I knew about James, too, of course. But unlike Alec, I would not forgive him for his betrayal. That was why it gave me such pleasure, James, to blame you for the scars you saw on our face when we met again in St. Petersburg. Because, you see, James. . .in a way, you were responsible. If you had done your job in the first place, Alec wouldn't have been captured."

"He was shot in the head! I believed he was dead. . .that there was nothing more I could do for him!" James ground out, and the two operatives finally dumped him into a chair. Janus just shook his head, looking disgusted. James continued, not wanting to lose this battle to Janus, no matter how small it was, "And it wasn't I who used an innocent, naive young American girl! You did that, Janus. . .you dragged that innocent child into your little web, but it backfired, didn't it? You never guessed that Alec would try to protect her. . .for all that you were created from Alec, you had no idea of what he was really like!"

"Oh, you are such a fool, James!" Janus retorted, taking a step forward. James, however, refused to back down. In a way, this confrontation had been coming for nearly ten years. With every passing minute, it became easier for him to accept that Alec and Janus were two separate entities. This wasn't his friend, this wasn't his little brother. He should have seen it a long time ago. Janus went on, "If you were paying attention, you would have seen that the bullet grazed his head! And don't you remember your little friend, Elektra King? Her boyfriend?"

The man who could feel no pain, because of a bullet lodged in his head. 006 entered the conversation for the first time, offering, "That was actually what drew my attention back to the Trevelyan case. . .why I became so fascinated with my 006 predecessor in the first place. Victor Zokas. Shot in the head. Like Alec Trevelyan. I found myself wondering if it was possible for a bullet to cause a personality change within my predecessor. Of course, I could never investigate it further, but I always wondered. I don't think any of us could have guessed at the truth, however. And I'm Sebastian Miller. . .the current double-oh six."

"I know. I learned as much from Alec. You are not the expected double-oh agent. Perhaps that's your strength. . .you aren't what the enemy expects. Your enemy, at least. My enemy is anyone who threatens the Trevelyan family. . .or anyone who betrays them," Janus replied, looking back at James. The agent returned the stare steadily, before switching his attention to Miller. However, for once, the younger man didn't turn all twittery. Instead, he gazed back, his own stare just as steady. That made James more uncomfortable than he cared to admit.

Which was why he asked his next question, "And just why are you here, double-oh-six? I know why William is here. . .he never really accepted that his boy was that murdering bastard, Janus. But why are you here? What are you getting out of this?" Jinx told him once that her father was a lawyer, and one of the first things every good lawyer learned was, never ask a question unless you know the answer. It prevented unpleasant surprises. Until now, he never realized what good advice that was.

Not until Sebastian Miller's eyes flashed with fury and he retorted, "Why? You want to know why I'm here, double-oh-seven? I'm beginning to think that Mrs. Trevelyan had it right when she called you '_double-oh-asshat_,' because that's exactly how you behave!" Now how did he find _that_ out? Never mind. . .it didn't matter. Especially not when the young agent added bitterly, shocking everyone in the room, "I'm here because this whole mess was caused by my family, and it's time that we put things to rights!"


	13. Expect the Unexpected

Author's Note: To everyone who has been patiently waiting for an update for all this time, you have my deepest apologies. I've been working on this chapter for the last few years, but unfortunately, the muses stopped talking to me. Rather than wait until I had my usual full chapter (between twelve and eighteen pages), I decided to go ahead and post what I have done of the next chapter. I wish I could tell you when the next chapter will be up, but I simply don't know. I have not abandoned this fic, as I have further plans for Alec, Rowanne, and their extended family. Hopefully, they'll start talking to me again. In the meantime, enjoy the revelations found in this (abbreviated) chapter.

Chapter Twelve

Expect the Unexpected

There was dead silence in the room after Sebastian Miller made his shocking announcement. At last, M asked, her voice tight with surprise, "What, exactly, do you mean by that, 006?" A glance around the room told Rowanne that everyone, including Janus, was surprised by Sebastian's statement. She honestly didn't think it was possible to surprise her husband's dark twin (as Alec called Janus), much less shock him silent, but that was exactly what just happened.

"Exactly what I said. Did no one ever wonder how Alec Trevelyan received the information about his parents? Did no one ever wonder how that dossier ended up in his hands?" Sebastian demanded. Rowanne inhaled sharply, suddenly understanding. A quick glance at William told her that he saw as well. The young agent shook his head, muttering under his breath. Rowanne could relate. She would be the last person to say she understood anything about the 'spy community,' but someone should have asked the very necessary question of, 'how did Alec get that information.'

It seemed, too, that he was giving everyone gathered time to process his question. The truth was, however, that he was giving himself time to compose himself. Rowanne wouldn't allow anyone to take that away from him. At last, the agent said in a soft voice, "I was twelve years old when we moved from New Zealand to England. Dads had been working in England since I was six, and we could finally join him. At the time, we were all too happy to be together again to wonder at the why of it."

He stopped, his eyes meeting Rowanne's. She gave a little nod, to encourage him, and he smiled at her weakly. Odd. He was the same age she was, give or take a few years or a few months, but right now, the MI6 agent seemed very young to her indeed. . .no older than Corliss. Sebastian licked his lips nervously, and then continued, "We were very happy in the beginning, just being together. But there was a serpent in our personal paradise. We'd been there two years when Dads came home from a late night meeting, visibly upset. It was the weekend, and I'd just turned fourteen, so Mum let me stay up.

"I remember that, so clearly. Just like I remember teasing my brother and sister that they weren't old enough to stay up. It's funny, but now I'm glad they were in bed and asleep when he got home. Dads. . .he was so upset. So angry. Especially when he saw me. The. . .the particulars don't really matter, I don't suppose, though I can tell you if you wish to hear. Mum was afraid for Dads, driving after dark in that state, so she told him to take me with him. Dads got even more upset. He didn't want to drag me into this. Mum, very sensibly she thought, told him that I could wait in the car while he did whatever he needed to do. This seemed to appease Dads, so off we went."

Rowanne said not a word, just kept her eyes on Sebastian steadily. Janus was watching him as well, but as well as she could usually read Alec, Janus was a cipher to her. She had no idea what was going on inside of that twisted mind of his. The young agent went on, "We drove to a residential area. Dads parked, told me to stay put, and picked up a parcel in the back. He told me again to stay put, then made his delivery. It wasn't fun anymore or exciting. I was scared. Dads was always so kind, inclined to spoil us children. I didn't know the man I was with that night. I wasn't sure if I wanted to, either.

"It was raining, and almost midnight. Dads put the parcel against the door, out of the rain, and then came back. And then we waited. Dads wouldn't tell me why we weren't leaving. He wouldn't say anything. Then another car pulled up. Dads just sighed, murmuring something I couldn't understand. There were so many things I couldn't understand. The man who got out of the car. . .he seemed old to me, but again, I was only fourteen, and this man was in his late twenties or early thirties. And even from that distance, even through the rain, I could tell he was exhausted. He picked up the parcel and tucked it under his arm, then went inside. Dads sighed again, only this time, he said something I could hear clearly. '_It's done, then. I'm sorry, Trevelyan_.' I asked him what he meant and he just shook his head."

Rowanne dared to glance at Janus. . .and almost regretted it. Earlier, she couldn't read him at all. Now, she could read him all too well. He knew what was in that parcel, and Rowanne had a sinking feeling that she did, too. Sebastian swallowed hard and said, "It wasn't until years later, when my father was dying, that I learned the rest of the story. Dads sold his soul to the devil to get us to England. He didn't realize it at the time. You never do. And when it came time to collect, it meant destroying the life of another person. It's why my father didn't want me there that night. It was bad enough that he would have it on his conscience. . .he didn't want me dragged into this. But I was. And I became an accessory after the fact to the destruction of a fine agent and a good man."

The room fell silent. Not once had Sebastian said what was in that parcel. But everyone knew. Everyone knew that it was the file regarding Alec's past. Unexpectedly, Janus began laughing. Everyone stared at him, and the dark djinn sneered, "Does no else one see? The two people who are the least guilty in the entire mess blame themselves! A child who accompanied his distraught father on a dark night, and a young girl who actually tried to save Alec. . .both blame themselves for something they had no control over! 006, out of all the people in this room, save Alec's wife, you are the most innocent! You blame yourself? Your father was a foolish man, not realizing that the aid he received would have a price, but you are not at fault for what was done to Alec!"

"He's right, lad," William said gently, his hand once more finding a place on Rowanne's shoulder, "You can't blame yourself. You can't even really blame your father. Your family might have played a part, but it was a very small part in what happened to Alec. When all is said and done, those responsible for the creation of Janus are the guilty ones. Not you. Not your father. Not Rowanne." The young woman closed her eyes. No. No, she wasn't responsible, but she probably could have handled things better. William's hand tightened, and he repeated, "You did the best you could, child. Janus himself knows that, and I know Alec does. He loves you, Rowanne. They both do."

Rowanne opened her eyes to see Janus staring at her. But there was something strange in his expression, something. . .familiar. He murmured, "Rowanne?" Then his eyes glazed over and he crumpled to the ground with a soft groan. William released her and she flew to his side. When she knelt beside her husband, that was whom she found looking at her. Alec. Not Janus. He smiled up at her, whispering, "He kept his promise. He didn't hurt you." His words were slurring, and she knew he was fighting to remain conscious. She stroked his hair tenderly, and Alec added, "Tell him it's not his fault. He. . ." With that, his eyes slid shut and his body went limp.

Before Rowanne had a chance to do anything or call for help, William was at her side, gathering Alec into his arms protectively. Sebastian joined them a heartbeat later, picking up Alec's legs. Together, they carried him from the room, needing only directions to the infirmary. Rowanne followed, somewhat numbly. She wasn't alone anymore, to protect her husband. Sebastian and William would be there, too. As to the other revelations. . .she would think about them later.

M needed to think about the revelations she just heard. She needed time and a quiet place. 006, William, and Rowanne Trevelyan left the room with the girl's unconscious husband. The Janus troops assembled followed them, clearly worried, and only she and Bond remained. M looked over at her top agent, to find him staring blankly at a wall. He was realizing the same things she already figured out. But he said the words aloud, "Alec was set up. Someone wanted to turn him against England."

"Indeed," M replied quietly, "and most likely, those plans were set up well in advance. 006. . .the current one. . .told us that he, his mother, and his siblings were in England for two years before that delivery was made. Two full years, 007, and those individuals who expedited the move spent a great deal of time searching for the perfect patsy, for lack of a better word. This plan was created with a great dealing of planning. The question is, why Trevelyan?" Bond stared at her, obviously horrified by what she pointed out, but she only barely noticed as she worked it out in her mind, murmuring, "Why Trevelyan? Was it as simple as the fact that he was a Lienz Cossack who now worked in MI6? Or was there something more there?"

It was possible. But. . .why Trevelyan? If it was simply about destroying an MI6 agent, they could have simply abducted him and went to work on his mind. No. No, they attacked his family. More to the point, they _involved_ his family. . .his parents. That suggested to her that it was personal. M tried not to think about the possibility that Janus' creators would do it once again, this time going after Alec's young wife and two daughters. She tried not to think of that possibility, because if it did happen, then she and MI6 led them straight to Trevelyan's doorstep.

Which meant. . .which meant they couldn't leave. Not now. As devoted as the troops were to Janus and Juturna, there was also the matter of the two girls. M began working out a way she could ensure they were protected. Whether Trevelyan wanted anything to do with MI6 or not was irrelevant. He was one of M's, once upon a time, and they failed to protect him. William was right. They should have told Trevelyan the truth about his family, so it couldn't be used against him. Against them. Well, there was nothing for it now, they had work to be done.

She looked again at Bond, who was trying to piece together the events of the last few hours. Or, at least, make sense of them. Most likely, he was still trying to accept the same things she already realized. MI6 owed Alec. Not just because he was taken and tortured, but because they withheld the tools he needed to protect himself. . .and now, because they had most likely led his tormentors to his family. While death and injury were part of the package of being an MI6 agent, or any kind of law enforcement agent or soldier, not giving him the tools to do his job was simply irresponsible. They owed him for that. And they would make amends by protecting his family.

His family. Barbara frowned to herself, thinking about that. Didn't Rowanne's sister arrive today? She left the room in search of someone who could provide answers for her. Who was picking up Rowanne's younger sister. . .bloody hell, what was the girl's name? Claire? Clarissa? It was something close to that. . . Corliss! Yes, her name was Corliss. Not for the first time, Barbara felt sorry for Rowanne Trevelyan. What a bloody terrible time for a visit, especially from her younger sister. . .but at this point in time, she could hardly call it off. And Corliss Bramwell's presence gave the Janus members one more person to protect.

She shared this insight with Bond, telling him, "At least one of our agents must remain here, 007. Preferably more." Bond frowned, and M explained what she had just been thinking, "We have, in effect, led those responsible for Trevelyan's initial capture directly to the Trevelyan family. The Janus units, without a doubt, are devoted to the protection of Trevelyan and his family, but when all is said and done, Alec Trevelyan is one of ours. We failed him when we didn't tell him the truth about his parents. It is our responsibility to protect those whom he loves from his enemies. . .our enemies, Bond."

Bond didn't say anything. Barbara felt sorry for him as well. Things he believed for so many years were revealed to be nothing but illusions. His friend had turned into an enemy, and he learned that it was never Alec's choice. Everything he endured nine years earlier. . .Alec fought it the entire way. Fought to protect him, fought to protect the innocent young girl who was quickly winning his heart. Alec nearly sacrificed his own life to save James, because it was the only way to stop Janus.

It would take time for Bond to accept everything he had seen and heard during the last few days. It was hard enough for Barbara to accept, though she was never as close to Trevelyan as Bond was. But things were strange enough in the world of MI-6, with some of Bond's more hair-raising adventures (and equally hair-raising stunts). When all was said and done, was what was done to Trevelyan that unbelievable? More to the point, none of them had the time to take the time and deal with this properly. To come to terms with everything they learned would take months, if not years.

Years and months that they didn't have. Just as they had neither years nor months for Trevelyan's wife and daughters to learn to trust Bond. The two girls had witnessed most of the confrontation when the MI-6 operatives entered the Trevelyan home. They saw 007 attack their father. They knew of the other confrontations. And for eight-year-old Anastasia, there was no gray area. 007 had hurt her father. He was bad. There was no other way around it.

Sabrina, on the other hand, knew of her father's dark past. She was starting to see shades of gray, but whatever her father had done, her stepmother was an innocent. Her greatest crime was falling in love with a man who might not have existed. In a curious way, though, the man she saw, the man she loved, actually did come to exist. A self-fulfilling prophecy in reverse, for lack of a better phrase. Or. . .to look at it another way, Rowanne's love and faith brought Alec Trevelyan back into the picture, if only to protect her from Janus.

Well. Either way, she had work to do. A glance at Bond told her that he was still working through what he just heard. Very well, then, she would get started. The first thing she needed to do was speak with Charles. And then she would need to speak to that fiery young girl whom Trevelyan had married, because in order to protect this family, Barbara would need her full cooperation. One problem at a time, as she always told her children. They would deal with this one problem at a time.


End file.
